<b^ 


.% 


.%< 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


'-'  IIIM  IIM 

'■    iiS    12.0 


1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

"^ 

6"     — 

> 

Photographic 

Sciences 
CoiporatioR 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


BBM 


a>- 


w. 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  InstituU)  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microraproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


0 
D 
D 

n 

n 

D 
D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdjgraphiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e   other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


L'Institut  a  niicrofilm6  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  rilmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  peliicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  ddcolor^es,  tachet^es  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tach^es 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prinl  varies/ 
Quality  in^gale  de  I'impressiOK 


n 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 


D 


Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


D 


D 


D 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  leliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  'a 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  ^tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairos  suppl6mentaires: 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  pariiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  film^es  d  nouveau  de  fagon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

■■■K.  ^ 

1 
1 

Ki 

1    ..^ 

i9y 

1fiX 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

a 

Stalls 
s  du 
lodifier 
r  une 
Image 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  inr.ages  appearing  here  are  the  best  qudlity 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
g^ndrositd  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6X6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  le«i  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmaga. 


iS 


errata 
to 


I  pelure, 
on  d 


□ 


32X 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  targe  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  loft  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


1 

2 

3 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sent  filmis  en  commengant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidrs  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  pa^ 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  teile 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — «*-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  cSiffirants. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cllch6,  II  est  filmd  A  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  drolte, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessalre.  Les  diagrammes  surants 
lllustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

i 
I 


nil  W     m,    ,    I^D»lll|pjiPWWIfWMyy||<W.^»l|         I    I  1,<T, 


v 


L 


; 


L 


1. 


i„«^i.. 


wmm 


THE  YOUNG  GUNBEARER 


1 


.)(iK.';riSS*i,.N.!    L 


:.J'i.to.il,i|.,,  ..yrii  1^      -     11  i_  .,,.,,., 


,  a. 


The  Woodranger  Talcs 

G,  Waldo  Browne 

« 

The  Woodranger 

The  Young  Gtinbearer 

The  Hero  of  the  Hills  (in  preparation) 

L.  C.  PAGE  AND  CX>MPANY 

(Incorporated) 

212  Summer  St,  Boston,  Mas. 


i'-''!!JH"!Agi?iV-J-!.r-j«inu.4i<wini'ijiUJiiMj 


M]<iiii,niiPiiiiiiiiiii#>m 


""] 


'-azmp 


■yy«'c^^'^y-t-i^,^'-a^jpi:  ' 


*»*•>'  -"^ 


THK  WOODKANGER  AND  ROBERT  ROGERS 

(See  page  /j.) 


RS 
iStt  pagt  I5-) 


,V  (      "li' 


THE 


YOUNG   GUNBEARER 


i 


# 


A  Tale  of  the  Neutral  Grouwd.  Acadia, 
AND  THE  Siege  of  Louisburg 


v.-  /'■> 


BV    ^ 

G.    WALDO    BROWNE 

AUTHOR   OF    "  THE    WOOURANGER,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


{lluitraUti  bu 
LOUIS   MEYNELL 


BOSTON 

L.   C.   PAGE   &•  COMPANY 

1900 


I  . 


•3  7;")  90 


Ulbrarjf  of  CodsK"**** 

OCT   6   1900 

SECOND  COPY. 

0«l)vtr«d«« 

ORDER  OIVISiOK, 

OCT  27  1900 


A- 


pu^  ^ 


^^^ 


►  T- 


Copyright,  iqoo 
b%  L.  C.  Page  and  Company 

(iNCORKlRATHIl) 

All  rights  reserved 


ffolonfil  VrtM 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  SImonds  &  Co. 

Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


Forecast 

The  Watch  -  fires 
The  Forest  Forge 
An  Old  Game    . 
News  of  War   . 
The  Son  of  a  Spy 
Rescue  of  Alex 
"  Khack  'Gainst  Cunning  " 
The  Acadian  Ranger 
Rob  Acts  the  Scout 
Outwitting  the  Enemy    . 
The  Fugitives    . 
A  Stout  Arm     . 
A  Long  Leap 
How  Rob  Found  the  Woodranger 
A  Stormy  Flight 
Seeking  Shelter 
The  Signal  of  Danger 
A  Hand-to-hand  Encounter 
Challenged  by  the  Enemy 
Tales  of  the  Greenwood 
Running  the  Rafids 
A  Ride  on  a  Moose. 
The  Arm  of  Gold 
An  "Ama.'ement"  for  Four 
vii 


PKon 

3 

II 

20 
28 
38 

44 
S6 
64 
71 
83 
96 
107 

"S 
122 

136 
144 

IS4 
163 

177 
187 
197 
207 
216 
227 
236 


A^^f^ 


VUl 


CONTENTS. 


CHAI'TKR 

XXV.  The  Warrior  Pine  .... 

XXVI.  Rob  Says  He  Is  a  Gunbearkr 

XXVII.  How  Rob  Carried  the  News  to  Main 

A-DiEU 

XXVIII.  The  Louisburg  Expedition     . 

XXIX.  The  Gunbearers  of  Silver  River 

XXX.  The  Hero  of  Louisburg. 

XXXI.  An  Astonishing  Discovery 

XXXI  I.  The  Fight  at  the  Forge 


PAr.R 

-'■47 
257 

266 
275 
285 
298 

322 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGB 

The  Woodranoer  and  Rob?;rt  Rogers  Frontispiece 

"Alex  .  .  .  was   lifted   upward   until  only   his 

TOES  touched  the  FLOOR "      .  .  .  .         H 

" '  I  LET  GO  OF  ONE  EAR  AND  GRASPED  MY  KNIFE ' "   22S 

"  The  OCCUPANT  of  the  dwelling  .  .  .  soon  ap- 


peared AT  THE  door' 


271 


.   .^'Vif'S 


«>J£_'     «. 


1? 


I     ,A 


■H 


I' 


il 

i! 


■^ 


V 


?•!».< 


FORECAST. 

The  incidents  of  "The  Young  Gunbearer,"  the 
second  of  "  The  Woodranger  Tales,"  belong  to  that 
period  of  colonial  history  known  in  America  as 
"  King  George's  War."  In  Europe  this  was  called 
the  "  War  of  the  Austrian  Succession."  In  reality 
it  was  the  reopening  of  an  old  quarrel  between  Eng- 
land and  France,  and,  like  all  of  their  wars,  was 
quickly  transplanted  to  their  colonies  in  the  New 
World.  Heie,  in  addition  to  their  bitter  opposition 
to  the  English,  the  French  rallied  around  them  their 
Ind'an  allies,  whose  bloody  deeds  carried  terror  to 
the  hearts  of  the  New  England  colonists. 

The  French  domains  in  America,  styled  New 
France,  extended  from  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland 
to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  shape  of  this  vast  ter- 
ritory, considerable  of  it  unexplored,  was  that  of  a 
huge  crescent.  Exposed  on  all  sides  to  the  attacks 
of  enemies,  it  was  guarded  on  the  frontiers  by  forts 
defended  by  armed  troops,  and  by  fortified  bulwarks 
on  the  North  Atlantic  coast.  It  had  a  most  check- 
ered history.  At  no  time  did  peace  prevail  through- 
out the  colony.     At  the  opening  scenes  of   "The 

3 


If 


L.^ 


FORECAST. 


Young  (iunbearer  "  the  great  West  wao  not  disturbed 
by  any  more  serious  danger  than  the  echoes  of  bat- 
tles already  fought,  and  the  warning  notes  of  others 
to  come.     In  the  East,  however,  the  alarm  of  war 
had  spread  over  Acadia,  and  the  first  guns  had  been 
fired.     Acadia,  in  its  most  limited  sense,  comprising 
what  is  now  known  as  Nova  Scotia,  standing  at  the 
gateway  to  the  Canadas,  the  wilderness  of  the  bound- 
less North,  with  its  savage  tribes,  its  inland  seas,  and 
their  maritime   importance,   as   it   had  ma  ly   times 
previously,    became   debatable   gi\3und,    though    de- 
nominated in  the  various  treaties  as  the  "Neutral 
Country."     Before  describing  the  events  which  lay 
the  foundation  of  our  historic  narrative,  it  is  fitting 
that  we  briefly  trace  the  history  of  this  peninsula. 
This  coast  was  discovered  by  the  Cabots  June  24, 
1497,  only  five  years  after  Columbus  had  sailed  on 
his  first  voyage,  though  no  attempt   was  made  by 
England  to  colonise  the  territory.    Seventy-two  years 
later,   however,  a  body   of    colonists   from  Virginia 
sought  to  hold  it  on  the  ground  of  first  discovery 
by  their  countrymen.      This  claim  was  successfully 
resisted  by  the  fishermen   and  merchants,  who  had 
found  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  and  the  Bay  of 
Fundy  valuable  fishing  waters. 

Sieur  de  Monts,  the  patron  of  De  Champlain,  first 
colonised  the  territory  in  1604,  by  planting  a  settle- 
ment at  Port  Royal,  afterward  Englished  into  An- 


H  «K«>— i'-'t.—' -'-»■-■ -^ 


FORECAST.  e 

napolis-Royal,  and  he  named  the  peninsula  L'Aca- 

die,  from  the  Indian  term  Aquoddie, — a  pollock, 

changed  by  the  succeeding  French  into  Acadie,  and 
converted  by  the  English  into  Acadia. 

Regardless  of  the  claim  of  the  French,  in  1630 
King  James  I.,  of  England,  granted  the  peninsula  to 
William   Alexander,   and  the  grant   was   named   by 
him    Nova   Scotia,    though    frequently    called    New 
Scotland.     Quite  a  number  of  nobles  and  their  fol- 
lowers  immediately    settled    in   the    new    province. 
Nine  years  later  Charles  I.  sold  to  one  hundred  and 
fifty   of  the   nobility,   some   of  whom   were   living 
in  the  territory,   what  his  father  had   given  away. 
The  original   French  inhabitants  and  their  descend- 
ants, however,  were  allowed  to  remain  unmolested. 
They  were  not  disturbed  until  Cromwell,  in  1654, 
made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  d.ive   them   out. 
In    1667,    under    Charles    II.,    Acadia,    or    Nova 
Scotia,  was  ceded   to   France   under  the   treaty  of 
Breda,  and   it    remained    under    French    rule    until 
1689,  when  Sir  William   Phipps,  at  the  head  of  an 
expedition  of  English  colonists  from  Massachusetts, 
captured  the  country. 

Following  the  conquest  of  Sir  William  Phipps, 
Nova  Scotia  was  given  a  period  of  comparative 
peace,  until  the  French  Chevalier  Villabon  made  a 
successful  attack  on  the  province,  and  again  the  red 
cross  of  St.  George  was  supplanted  by  the  white  lilies 


.*fi 


,  t-  ' '." 


"h' 


tlr'^ 


hgf* 


6  FORECAST. 

of  Louis.  By  the  treaty  of  Ryswick,  in  1696,  for  the 
second  time  this  territory  was  ceded  to  France,  and 
again  it  became  known  as  L'Acadie. 

Exultant  over  his  triumph  here,  Villabon  at  once 
undertook  to  recover  all  of  the  territory  which  had 
at  one  time  belonged  to  France,  from  the  Isle  Royal, 
on  the  east,  to  the  Penobscot  on  the  west.  This 
aroused  the  English  colonists  of  Massachusetts,  and 
Captain  Church  was  sent  at  the  head  of  an  expedi- 
tion to  teach  the  French  a  lesson.  This  old  Indian 
fighter,  celebrated  as  the  slayer  of  King  Philip,  was 
amply  capable  of  doing  this.  A  sort  of  pious  bigot, 
who  could  shut  his  eyes  to  all  torts  of  indignities  if 
the  victims  happened  to  be  French  or  Indian,  but 
who  was  ready  to  retaliate  any  wrong  done  by  the 
enemy  with  terrible  vengeance,  there  are  many 
instances  of  his  cold  indifference  to  humanity,  but 
they  do  not  make  wholesome  reading  here.  Well, 
this  man,  in  17 10,  laid  waste  the  fair  meadows  of 
Grand  Pr^,  as  they  had  never  been  ravaged  before, 
and  applied  the  torch  to  the  homes  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, who  were  either  slain  like  creatures  of  the 
wilderness,  or  driven  in  nakedness  to  the  forests  for 
refuge.  Not  until  the  last  of  the  ruthless  invaders 
had  disappeared  from  the  scene  did  the  survivors 
of  their  cruel  attack  dare  to  come  out  from  their 
concealment.  With  commendable  resignation,  they 
set  about  repairing  the  destruction  done  them  ;  their 


■  -vwa^i«t*^.'W»«s*»i.«»-i3*«"*»;»«iaa*'itMM*ft*C'i.-^.-~ 


-^ 


FOh'ECASr.  7 

cottages  were  rebuilt,  their  chapels  restored,  and 
again  the  fertile  meadows  took  on  their  carpet  of 
green. 

As  a  result  of  this  conquest  of  Captain  Church, 
under  the  terms  of  the  treaty  of  Utrecht,  in  171 3, 
with  Queen  Anne  as  sovereign  of  England,  Nova 
Scotia  was  ceded  back  to  the  English,  and  has 
remained  a  British  possession  ever  since.  Under  the 
conditions  of  this  treaty,  the  French  inhabitants  were 
to  remain  unmolested  on  their  taking  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  their  new  rulers.  This  was  done  in 
1727-28,  when  they  pledged  themselves  not  to  move 
against  the  English,  and  were  promised  that  they 
should  not  be  called  upon  to  take  up  arms  against 
their  countrymen.  Placed  in  the  position  of  neutrals, 
they  became  known  as  such,  and  Acadia,  instead  of 
being  debatable  ground,  was  considered  "neutral 
ground." 

Besides  these  attacks  and  counter-attacks  by  kingly 
powers,  in  161 3  an  adventurer  from  Virginia,  named 
Argall,  seized  the  feeble  settlement  of  Port  Royal, 
and  laid  waste  the  surrounding  country.  Tradition 
says  that  a  church  at  this  place,  plundered  by  this 
freebooter  and  his  band,  contained  two  bells  of  solid 
silver,  which  of  their  own  weight  sank  into  the 
ground  out  of  sight,  where  they  lie  to  this  day.  Port 
Royal  had  a  most  checkered  career,  and  was  almost 
continually  under  the  fire  of  English  or  French  guns, 


-'ir.  '} 


■■■"  i«4'' 


.is 


®-.4  Q- 


r 


!! 


I. 


8 


FOKRCAST. 


aiul  when  not  assailed  by  one  of  these  was  fighting 
within  itself.  The  torch  and  tlie  gun  were  constantly 
in  hand  for  over  two  hundred  years,  until  the  hand 
of  Britain  dosed  too  firmly  upon  it,  in  1 710,  to  be 
loosened,  and  its  name  was  changed  to  Annapolis- 
Royal  in  honour  of  Queen  Anne. 

If  the  puppets  of  kings,  who  traded  them  back  and 
forth  like  so  many  men  on  the  checker-board,  the 
Acadians  remained  quiet  and  contented  under  the 
various  treaties,  and  if  the  cross  or  lily  surmounted 
their  sceptre,  whether  as  L'Acadie  or  New  Scotland, 
the  people  thrived  through  their  industry,  and  in- 
creased in  numbers.  Holding  their  property  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  in  common,  there  were  no  pau- 
pers, and  few  indeed  had  no  thatch-roofed  cottages 
to  call  their  homes.  Money  was  not  plenty  with 
them,  but  they  had  little  need  of  it.  Each  family 
owned  cows,  sheep,  and  horses,  had,  in  fact,  all  the 
requirements  toward  a  living  ;  pastoral  people  needed. 
Churches  were  comfortably  supported  by  a  portion 
of  the  harvests,  one  twenty-seventh  being  set  apart 
for  that  purpose.  Crime  was  quite  unknown,  and  the 
petty  quarrels  were  usually  settled  by  the  priests. 
It  will  thus  be  seen  that  Acadie,  as  it  was  called  at 
that  time,  was  as  near  an  earthly  Paradise  as  it  is 
apparently  possible  for  a  people  to  make  it. 

The  ances'.ors  of  the  Acadians  were  immigrants 
from  Poitou,  Saintonge,  and  La  Rochelle,  who  had 


I, 


trvj!  ^.TTTTi- 1:  'r  r-?.  •j^ijm  >  -f j  ■' 


hOKECAST. 


ligrants 
/ho  had 


come  ill  the  early  years  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Grand  I'rd,  which  means  the  "Great  Meadow,"  with 
its  hundreds  of  white-walled  cottages,  built  after  the 
Normandy  idea  of  architecture,  and  white  chapels, 
was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  settlements  in  all  New 
France.  The  people  had  reclaimed  their  homesteads 
very  largely  from  the  sea,  and  their  lands  afforded  a 
bountiful  harvest.  They  exported  much  grain  to 
Hoston,  and  were  prosperous  and  contented.  Light- 
hearted  and  simple  in  his  methods  of  living,  of  a 
deeply  religious  nature,  the  Acadian  was  of  spotless 
character.  The  care  for  his  flocks,  the  cultivation 
of  his  fields,  and  the  welfare  of  his  spiritual  being 
completed  the  dream  of  his  life.  The  number  of 
the  Acadians  was  probably  about  seven  thousand, 
though  they  have  been  estimated  as  high  as  eighteen 
thousand. 

In  the  midst  of  their  idyllic  happiness  a  shadow 
fell  on  the  Eden-like  scene,  a  premonition  of  the 
storm  to  follow.  This  cloud,  though  a  speck  on  the 
horizon  no  larger  than  one's  hand,  had  been  dis- 
covered by  a  few  at  the  time  of  our  tale,  though  that 
was  more  than  ten  years  before  the  banishment  of 
the  Acadians,  which  forms  one  of  the  most  pathetic 
incidents  in  American  history.  Our  beloved  Long- 
fellow made  immortal  this  sad  story  of  the  fate  of  a 
race.  My  purpose,  if  he  who  writes  to  amuse  can 
claim  that  dignity,  is  to  portray  the  causes,  in  a  slight 


•■••W¥l\ 


-nngR.. 


10 


FOKECAST. 


way,  'vhich  led  up  to  the  despoliation  of  the  people. 
We  do  this  with  no  malice  toward  the  hapless  victims, 
though  they  may  have  been  peculiarly  blind  to  their 
unfortunate  situation,  but  rather  to  show  their  help- 
lessness between  the  two  mighty  powers  that  were  at 
war  with  each  other,  and  who,  like  a  pair  of  huge 
scissors,  were  bound  to  cut  whatever  came  between 
them,  without  materially  injuring  themselves.  Soveial 
of  thosj  who  figure  so  prominently  in  the  adventures 
of  "  The  Young  Gunbearer  "  later  belonged  to  that 
band  of  exiles.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  there 
were  many  Gabriels  and  Evangelines  made  to  suffer. 
An  ancient  willow  still  marks  the  site  of  the  smithy 
of  Basil  the  Basque ;  a  well  is  still  shown  as  the  one 
where  Evangeline  and  her  lover  were  wor^  to  meet ; 
the  stone  that  formed  the  foundation  of  Father 
Fafard's  little  cliapel  is  yet  to  be  seen  ;  the  rock  from 
which  Jean  Vallie  made  his  remarkable  leap  has 
remained  unchanged  through  all  the  years ;  in  fact, 
while  the  footprints  of  man  have  been  washed  away, 
the  handiwork  of  nature  still  retains  its  ancient 
grandeur  and  beauty.  Acadia  is  Acadia  still,  the 
richer  for  its  legends  and  historic  interest,  its  pathos 
and  its  religious  contentment. 

G.  Waldo  Browne. 


!!V^3r**-^''v*-''-  ''■^^-"'"' 


fmmm 


)f  the  people, 
ipless  victims, 
)lind  to  their 
w  their  help- 
>  that  were  at 
pair  of  huge 
ime  between 
Ives.   Soveiai 
le  adventures 
iged  to  that 
r  that  there 
ide  to  suffer, 
f  the  smithy 
n  as  the  one 
)rl  to  meet ; 
k   of   Father 
he  rock  from 
»le   leap  has 
ars ;  in  fact, 
'ashed  away, 
its   ancient 
lia  still,  the 
t,  its  pathos 

Browne, 


THE   YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE    WATCH-FIRES. 


"  Well,  lad,  here  we  are  at  last,  and  it's  a  goodish 
perambulation  o'  woods  and  waters  we've  had." 

"  Strong  three  hundred  miles,  Woodranger.  But 
look  to  the  south ;  is  not  that  bright  spot  on  the 
horizon  a  fire  ?  The  moon  is  not  yet  in  sight,  though 
she  cannot  be  far  below  the  skirt  of  the  forest." 

"Well  spoken,  Rob.  I  was  marking  th.2  spot 
myself.  As  you  say,  the  moon  is  too  deep  in  yon 
wilderness  to  put  sich  an  eye  in  the  bro\.-  o'  ^he 
great  green  wood.  Nay,  it  is  not  the  moon,  lad. 
And  if  you  want  to  see  its  mate,  look  yon  on  ol' 
North  Mountain,"  swinging  his  long  right  arm 
slowly  around  in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  first 
observed. 

"  You  are  right,  Woodranger,"  acknowledged  his 
companion,  as  he  followed  the  other's   movement. 

II 


'■'<'' 


"SiinMNi^ 


i. 

] 


•rmmBmammmm. 


12 


r//E    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  I  can  see  another  fire  plainly,  now  you  have  called 
my  attention  to  it.  Perhaps  they  are  watch-fires, 
kindled  on  those  heights  to  warn  vessels  which  hap- 
pen to  be  off  the  coast." 

"  Nay,  lad,  now  you  let  your  knack  at  reading  signs 
run  a  wild-goose  race  with  your  jedgment.  Watch- 
fires  yon  bright  blazes  may  be,  but  they  be  the  watch- 
fires  o'  scouts  and  not  life-savers.  There  be  no 
'casion  for  either,  'cording  to  my  knack  o'  unravel- 
ling a  skein.  See  the  leetle  tongues  o'  flame  leap  up 
from  this  one  on  our  right.  The  other  burns  per- 
fectly even,  as  if  it  had  been  trimmed  by  a  pair  o' 
big  shears.  I  ne'er  claim  great  credit  for  reading 
sich  sign,  seeing  the  book  o'  natnr'  is  open  to  all, 
but  some  message  is  being  sent  from  mountain  top 
to  mountain  top.  It  is  a  message  o'  war,  too,  and 
you'd  chide  me  for  being  simple  enough  to  say  it  is 
being  sent  abroad  by  the  dusky  heathens  o'  this  land." 

"  So  you  think  there  is  mischief  afoot,  Woodranger  ? 
But  this  is  the  neutral  ground  of  the  French  and 
English." 

"  Neutral  ground  it  be,  lad,  but  it  does  not  signify 
that  men  with  bloody  heart-  may  not  kindle  signal- 
fires.  It  may  not  be  the  heathen  who  is  alone  to 
blame.  New  Scotland,  in  the  midsf  o'  which  we  are, 
is  a  British  province,  as  it  must  be  for  the  safety  o' 
New  England,  but  it's  peopled  mainly  by  an  alien  race. 
Haimony  tween  this  people  and  their  rulers  is  not 


■''ii^-^iyiS^^^Siemiss!^^^^ 


have  called 
watch-fires, 
which  hap- 

;ading  signs 
It.  Watch- 
j  the  watch- 
lere   be   no 

o'  unravel- 
ame  leap  up 
•  burns  per- 
ay  a  pair  o' 

for  reading 
open  to  all, 
lountain  top 
ra.r,  too,  and 

to  say  it  is 
|o'  this  land." 

bodranger  ? 

French  and 

not  signify 
:indle  signal- 
is  alone  to 
rhich  we  are, 
[the  safety  o' 
in  alien  race. 
Irulers  is  not 


r^£    WATCH-FIRES. 


13 


'cording  to  the  rules  o'  natur'.  There  be  no  man  so 
ill  o'  fare  as  him  who  sarvc«»  his  master  begrudgingly. 
I  ne'er  like  the  willingness  with  which  these  Acadian 
neutrals  don  the  feathers  and  wur-paint  o'  the  dusky 
heathens.  The  red  r.an's  love  fo:  bright  colours  be 
his  gift,  and  when  the  white  mari  mimics  him,  natur' 
clashes.  I  fear  me  the  simple  neutral  is  blind  to  his 
own  interest.  These  be  fruitful  meadows,  and  the 
industrious  people  have  prospered  under  King 
George's  easy  ways.  Mark  the  difference  'tween 
'em  and  the  liabitants  under  the  French,  who  are 
everywhere  groaning  'neath  the  burdens  laid  on  'em 
by  the  corrupted  government  o'  a  corrupted  king." 

"  So  you  think  Captain  Vaughan  was  right  in  ex- 
pecting trouble,  Woodranger .' " 

"  I  durst  noi  dissemble,  lad;  as  pleasanter  as  it 
might  be  to  previcate  the  truth.  It  does  seem  to 
me  the  lesson  o'  Lovewell  s  bloody  fight  has  all  got 
to  be  I'arned  over  ag'in.  The  tarm  o'  peace  is  break- 
ing, as  a  dry  stick  in  the  forest  snaps  under  the 
keerless  foot  o'  some  invader.  I  read  it  in  all  the 
signs,  as  far  as  iny  knack  goes  in  reading  the  great 
unwritten  language.  It  is  hence  the  craft  o'  ihe 
gun,  lad,  the  craft  o'  the  gun. 

"  But  see !  the  watch-fires  are  losing  their  bright- 
ness in  the  light  o'  the  rising  moon.  No  doubt  the 
cunning  reds  have  flashed  their  sign  abroad  to  'em 
who  were  looking  for  it," 


^\, 


ri^Wli^W'''''*"'***'* 


M 


THE    YOUNG    GUNBEARER. 


The  setting  sun  of  a  late  summer  day,  1744,  was 
throwing  long,  shadowy  arms  over  the  silvery  water, 
as  the  speaker  and  his  companion  propelled  their 
back  canoe  leisurely  up  the  Strait  of  Minas  leading 
to  that  inland  sea  known  as  Minas  Basin,  lying  on 
the  northeast  coa:t  of  No^'a  Scotia.  They  had 
passed  through  the  "Narrows,"  that  dangerous 
channel  where  the  flood-tides  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy 
often  reach  the  appalling  height  of  seventy  feet,  the 
highest  tide  in  the  world,  and  now  paused  to  scan 
the  surrounding  country. 

The  older  of  the  two  was  a  man  still  on  the  sunny 
side  of  fifty,  though   his  abundant   hair  and  beard 
were  streaked  with  threads  of  silver,  and  his  rugged 
features,  beaming  with  honest  simplicity,  were  bronzed 
and  marked  with  years  of  exposure  to  the  hardships 
of  a  life  in  the  wilderness.     His  garb  was  that  of  a 
woodsman,  a  pair  of  tight-fitting  buckskin  pantaloons, 
frilled  up  and  down  the  seams,  a  hunting-frock  of  the 
colour  of  the  greenwood,  fringed  along  the  sleeves 
and  around   the   bottom    with   yellow,   and  girthed 
closely  about  the  waist  by  a  wide  belt,  so  the  gar- 
ment cou'd  not  flutter   as   he   moved   through   the 
forest.     A  cap  made  of  the  skin  of  the  silver  fox, 
shorn  of  its  fur  for  summer  wear,  v.ith  the  long  tail 
hanging  down  his  shoulders,  covered  his  head.     His 
feet  were  encased  in  moccasins  of  Indian  pattern  and 
ornamentation. 


-p.r^-j^iSiifc!i^t-'^s^-'*^*'''-''-'-ys^^'^' 


-fe 


1744,  was 
■ery  water, 
elled  their 
las  leading 
1,  lying  on 
They   had 
dangerous 
r  of  Fundy 
ty  feet,  the 
sed  to  scan 

n  the  sunny 
r  and  beard 
I  his  rugged 
jvere  bronzed 
tie  hardships 
as  that  of  a 
1  pantaloons, 
frock  of  the 
the  sleeves 
and  girthed 
so  the  gar- 
through   the 
le  silver  fox, 
the  long  tail 
head.     His 
pattern  and 


r^E    WATCH-FIRES. 


15 


He  had  risen  from  his  seat  at  the  words  of  his 
companion,  and  now  his  erect  figure  was  drawn  up 
to  its  six  feet  of  sterling  manhood,  his  right  foot 
slightly  ahead,  and  his  body  inclined  forward,  as  he 
gazed  into  the  distance.  His  left  hand  had  been 
raised  over  his  eyes  to  shield  chem  from  the  con- 
flicting r^ys  of  light,  while  in  his  right  he  held  up- 
right, with  its  butt  resting  in  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe,  his  serviceable  firearm,  a  weapon  which  had 
been  his  constant  companion  for  nearly  twenty 
years.  Its  muzzle  nearly  reached  his  head,  tall  as 
he  was,  for  every  frontiersman  of  those  days  had 
faith  only  in  the  gun  that  had  a  long  barrel.  It 
had  a  smooth  bore,  the  rifle  being  then  unknown, 
was  single-barrelled,  and  under  his  experienced  marks- 
manship carried  a  bullet  with  wonderful  precision. 
The  handle  of  a  stout  knife  appeared  above  the  rim 
of  his  belt.  A  bullet-pouch  and  powder-horn,  slung 
from  hi.s  shoulders,  completed  his  accoutrements. 
His  home  wherever  the  wildwood  shielded  him  from 
heat,  cold,  or  storm,  he  was  known  in  northern 
New  England,  Canada,  or  New  France  as  "The 
Woodranger." 

His  companion,  though  a  headless  youth,  was  of 
a  physique  scarcely  less  strong,  being  almost  as  tall 
as  the  Woodranger,  with  a  breadth  of  chest  and 
strength  of  limb  unusual  for  a  boy  of  seventeen. 
His  countenance  was  of  marked  beauty^  except  the 


i^? 


SM, 


5j  c^-Tj^^r^S 


JK^ 


1 6  THE    YOUNG   GUNBEAREK. 

nose,  which  was  very  prominent.  His  dress  was 
more  fanciful  and  picturesque  than  that  of  his  com- 
panion, as  might  have  been  expected  of  one  of  his 
years.  The  cape  of  his  tunic-like  hunting-shirt,  which 
was  made  of  dressed  buckskin,  as  well  as  its  skirt, 
was  tastefully  fringed  and  embroidered  with  the 
stained  quills  of  the  porcupine.  His  leggings,  of  the 
same  material,  were  heavily  frilled,  while  the  seams  of 
his  moccasins  were  treated  in  the  same  manner.  A 
cap  of  the  raccoon  skin,  the  fur  left  on,  sat  jauntily 
on  his  head,  the  long  tail,  with  its  dark,  transverse 
bars,  hanging  down  behind  like  the  drooping  i-lume 
of  a  helmet. 

He,  too,  carried  a  long,  single-barrelled  gun,  now 
conveniently  at  hand,  as  he  sat  in  the  bow  of  the 
canoe.  The  handle  of  a  knife  showed  itself  above 
his  belt,  while  two  leathern  sashes,  crossing  each 
other  upon  his  breast,  held  respectively  a  bullet- 
pouch,  made  from  the  head  of  a  wood-duck,  and  a 
crescent-shaped  powder-horn,  a  grotesque  image  of 
some  strange  imp  carved  at  one  end.  Attached  to 
these  belts  by  leathern  strings  were  a  wiper  and 
picker  for  his  gun,  and  steel  for  striking  fire. 

The  name  of  this  youth  was  Robert  Rogers,  and, 
young  as  he  was,  in  the  vicinity  of  his  home  in  the 
Merrimac  valley,  in  the  Province  of  New  Hampshire, 
it  was  a  synonym  of  deeds  of  daring  and  skill  in 
woodcraft.  Of  him  it  had  been  said,  "  he  was  a  dead 


».V»aw»!<!»l*'«*»»-3S«a;5»i*S«»»«»5SK*S»»-S 


THE    WATCH-FIRES. 


»7 


res?  was 

his  com- 
ne  of  his 
irt,  which 

its  skirt, 

with  the 
igs,  of  the 
le  seams  of 
anner.  A 
iat  jauntily 

transverse 
ping  i-lume 

d  gan,  now 
bow  of  the 
litself  above 
3ssing  each 
ly  a  buUet- 
duck,  and  a 
le  image  of 
Attached  to 
I  wiper  and 
fire. 

Logers,  and, 
lome  in  the 
Hampshire, 
and  skill  in 
was  a  dead 


shot,  as  fleet  as  a  deer,  as  nimble  as  a  fox,  and  he 
could  swim  like  an  otter." 

As  their  conversation  has  led  us  to  think,  this 
couple  have  only  just  reached  this  country,  coming 
overland  from  the  valley  of  the  Merrimac,  the  Wood- 
ranger  having  been  in  Acadia  before.  Their  errand 
in  being  here  was  to  look  after  some  property  inter- 
est;  held  in  this  vicinity  by  one  Captain  William 
Vaughan,  who  was  one  of  the  New  England  men 
who  sent  fishing-vessels  to  the  coasts  of  that  region. 
Captain  Vaughan  was  then  concentrating  his  time  and 
energies  in  founding  a  pioneer  settlement  at  Damaris- 
cotta,  in  the  Province  of  Maine.  Of  him  we  shall 
hear  more  anon,  as  well  as  learn  further  particulars 
of  the  work  of  his  agents. 

Even  in  that  land  of  delightful  prospects  and 
dreamy  beauty,  a  more  entrancing  landscape  and  sei 
view  could  not  have  been  found  than  that  upon  which 
the  Woodranger  and  Rob  Rogers  gazed,  as  their  keen 
sights  swept  the  country  far  and  near.  In  the  dis- 
tance, far  enough  removed  to  lend  additional  charm 
to  the  happy  scene,  lay  the  lawnlike  meadows  of 
Grand  Fr6,  their  broad  plains  unbroken  by  a  fence. 
The  cottage  homes  of  the  peaceful  people,  tne  groves 
of  willows  and  maples,  apple  orchards,  stately  elms 
and  lone  sycamores  were  in  sight.  Near  to  them 
opened  the  wide  mouth  of  the  Gaspereau,  with  its 
forest  of  beeches  and  maples,  and  a  border  of  pines, 


}    :^. 


jatsL. 


i8 


r//£    YOUNG   GUiyBEARER. 


where  the  long  range  of  hills  fretted  the  horizon. 
Right  at  hand  there  frowned  down  upon  them  that 
dark  bulwark  of  Nature,  Cape  Blomidon,  then  called 
"  Blow-me-down."  '  The  lower  portion  of  this  tower- 
ing promontory,  composed  of  red  sandstone,  afforded 
a  meagre  existence  in  its  ^eam;.  and  crevices  for  a 
growth  of  stunted  birches  and  willows,  while  the 
upper  half  was  a  bare  wall  of  dark  gray  rock,  fringed 
at  the  crest  by  a  scanty  strip  of  fir-trees.  This  for- 
bidding sentinel  at  the  gateway  of  Minas  Basin  stood 
nearly  six  hqndred  feet  high,  or  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  higher  than  the  walls  of  Quebec. 

Blomidon  is  to  the  "  Land  of  Evangeline "  what 
Mount  Katahdin  is  to  Maine,  and  the  White  Hills  to 
New  Hamf,  lire.  Around  its  dizzy  form  clings  a  per- 
fect network  of  mythical  tales.  It  was  the  very  battle- 
ground of  the  gods  of  the  early  aborigines.  Here  lived 
the  gods  and  demi-gods  of  the  Micmacs,  who,  with  the 
Penobscot  tribes  of  Maine  and  the  St.  Francis  Indians 
of  the  North,  were  known  to  the  English  as  the 
Abnakis.  Here  was  evolved  a  mythology,  which, 
could  it  have  been  traced  in  season,  would  have  out- 
rivalled  the  wild  legends  of  Odin  and  the  beautiful 
myths  of  the  Southland.    Here  the  seas,  forests,  and 


I 


'  Early  navigators  declared  they  could  not  pass  this  rocky  barrier 
without  being  blown  on  their  beams-end.  Hence  the  term,  which 
the  French  way  of  taking  down  orally  seems  to  have  converted  into 
Blomidon. 


I 


»*si!V 


-.-*■  v.'.^u>ii^s^isU4^.'r-fea#aa'fl^^=»^=«^fte«ifiiiiii-^s^^ 


Jt- 


;  horizon, 
them  that 
hen  called 
his  tower- 
;,  afforded 
ices  for  a 
while  the 
:k,  fringed 
This  for- 
tasin  stood 
ndred  and 


THE    WATCH-FIRES. 


19 


skies  were  peopled  with  races  of  giants,  demons  of 
darkness  and  angels  of  light.  Blomidon  was  the 
sacred  abode  of  these  spirits  whose  dwelling  no  man 
dared  to  invade.  If  in  these  legends  we  trace  many 
an  Aryan  fancy,  an  Eskimo  dream,  or  a  Norse  tale, 
it  shows  the  close  connection  of  the  origin  of  the 
North  American  race  to  those  of  the  Old  World. 

Over  this  landscape  and  the  silvery  waters  the 
rising  moon  lent  a  bewitching  colouring,  while  a 
resinous  odour  from  the  pines,  fresh  and  invigorat- 
ing, filled  all  the  air. 


"^ 


ine"  what 
itf  Hills  to 
ings  a  per- 
irery  battle- 
Here  lived 
10,  with  the 
ids  Indians 
lish  as  the 
igy,  which, 
1  have  out- 
le  beautiful 
forests,  and 


is  rocky  barrier 
le  term,  which 
converted  into 


W" 


n 


"^ 


i 

I 
I 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    FOREST    FORGE. 

"  AwEEL,  now's  me,"  said  the  Woodranger,  as  he 
seated  himself  in  the  canoe,  and  exchanged  his  gun 
for  the  paddle,  "  it  may  be  well  for  us  to  be  moving, 
though  there  be  many  things  to  invite  one  to  tarry 
longer  here.  Once  I  remember  o'  coming  up  this 
waterway  in  company  with  a  friendly  Micmac,  and  if 
his  skin  was  dusky  his  heart  was  white.  He  told  me 
many  a  queer  conceit  o'  his  heathen  ancestors.  And 
I  must  say  I  was  not  displeased  with  what  he  said. 

"  He  told  me,"  continued  the  forester,  as  he  and 
Rob  began  to  use  gently  their  paddles,  "  that  his 
worship  taught  him  that  every  created  object,  be  it 
'.ni.nal  or  plant,  had  a  soul  and  a  hereafter,  which  to 
me  is  a  pretty  conceit,  and  speaks  well  for  the  man 
whose  great  gift  is  the  craft  o'  war.  No  creature 
with  a  heart  deep  enough  to  feel  the  pain-cry  o'  the 
vine  that  lies  crushed  under  its  own  foot,  or  the 
songs  o'  freedom  in  the  rushing  waters,  can  be  all  evil. 
He  will  not  be  forgotten  by  the  Master  in  the  great 
wigwam  above.     I  believe  it,  lad,  I  do. 

20 


m 


i/.'*- 


1 


-,4«i«i-«i-t5ft***»liW£««W?*(.**«S«-^^ 


THE  FOREST  FORGE. 


21 


>.N.»S> 


er,  as  he 

,  his  gun 
moving, 
to  tarry 
r  up  this 
ac,  and  if 
e  told  me 
rs.     And 
le  said. 
,s  he  and 
|<that   his 
act,  be  it 
which  to 
the  man 
creature 
ry  o'  the 
it,  or  the 
le  all  evil, 
the  great 


'« The  red  was  unequalled  in  the  resources  o*  his 
imagination.  He  saw  shapes  in  the  rocks,  figures 
in  the  air,  in  the  rippling  o'  waters  and  the  sighing 
()'  the  wind  a  language  o'  abidmg  eloquence.  He 
loved  to  people  the  valleys  and  deep  wildwood  with 
elfs,  naiads,  and  fairies  o'  surpassing  beauty ;  the 
rocky  heights  he  habitated  with  gods  and  spirits  o' 
the  wildest  and  most  grotesque  forms.  To  every 
waterfall  and  precipice  belonged  some  hero-  cale ;  to 
every  laughing  cascade  and  sunny  water  some  love 
romance.  So  you  see  the  wilder  the  place  the  wilder 
and  more  weird  the  legend.  It  was  natural  the 
legends  of  this  vicinit)  should  partake  of  the  mighty 
and  mysterious.  Everything  about  natur'  here  is  on 
a  grand  scale.  The  very  fogs  give  peculiar  effects 
to  objects,  and  make  trees  into  walking  men  o' 
monstrous  size.  I'xe  seen  this  myself,  and  I  claim 
no  great  knack  at  reading  sich  signs.  The  simple 
red  man  sees  with  his  soul  in  clus  touch  with  natur', 
in  each  bush  stirred  by  a  passing  breeze  some  crea- 
tur',  in  the  cloud-swept  pine  a  figure  of  giant  form, 
and  in  the  undying  thunder  o'  ol'  Fundy  the  voice 
o'  a  mighty  and  terrible  power  calling  unto  him. 

"  The  hero  o'  this  vicinity  was  a  demigod  called 
Glooscap,  whose  abiding-placo,  when  stopping  here- 
abouts, was  ol'  Blow-iiie-down.  But  this  ol'  fellow, 
who  was  so  tall  that,  when  he  straightened  up,  his 
head  touched  the  stars,  had  a  mortal  inemy  in  the 


'^s^ 


Sr.-, 


;     ^^ 


\'.u 


4 


\     o*-* 


■>r 


.^•■'-■'"X^'^^s  'f^  ^Vi-^">;3^-^^-^ 


fi 


22 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


I  'i; 


beaver.  The  beaver  took  great  delight  in  torment- 
ing him,  and  to  do  so  the  better  took  up  his  home 
in  Minas  Hasin,  which  was  then  a  big  lake,  with  no 
connection  to  the  sea.  Glooscap  stood  this  as  long 
as  ne  could,  and  one  day,  when  the  beaver  was  taking 
his  daily  wash,  he  flung  a  bucketful  o'  water  in  Gloos- 
cap's  face.  This  made  the  old  fellow  so  mad  he 
caught  u]i  a  handful  of  the  nearest  missiles  he  could 
find,  and  throwed  'em  at  the  beaver's  head.  The 
stone  missiles  the  god  threw  are  the  five  islands  over 
yon,  and  they  hit  the  beaver  so  hard  he  ne'er  so 
much  as  quivered  arter  he  was  struck.  Scieing  he 
had  killed  his  inemy  so  easily,  Glooscap  broke  down 
the  dam  between  Blow-me-down  and  the  home  o'  the 
beaver,  letting  the  water  o'  the  lake  out  with  a  ter- 
rific noise  down  through  the  Narrows,  so  no  beaver 
has  ever  taken  up  his  abode  in  the  basin  since. 

"  Another  inemy  o'  the  god  was  the  moose,  which 
was  a  powerful  creatur'  then,  going  about  and  devour- 
ing everything  it  came  across.  Its  stride  was  so 
mighty  it  could  step  from  mountain  top  to  mountain 
top,  and  at  its  coming  everything  shrank  into  the 
earth.  Meeting  him  one  day,  as  he  was  storming 
abroad,  the  god  hit  him  with  his  hand  atween  the 
eyes,  and  Mister  Moose  quickly  shrunk  down  to  his 
present  size,  and  in  humble  acknowledgment  of  his 
downfall  began  to  eat  the  green  boughs  o'  trees. 
And  this  has  been  its  food  ever  since. 


I'll 


-':  m^^xirK-iir-kili:- 


^i^*3»-.<n;*!-.M 


^Ojj^'^^'mmm^^^- 


'Ml 


THE  FOREST  FOKGE. 


23 


torment- 
lis  home 
,  with  no 
3  as  long 
as  taking 
in  Gloos- 

mad   he 

he  could 
ad.  The 
ands  over 

ne'er  so 
iidcing  he 
oke  down 
me  o'  the 
ith  a  ter- 
no  beaver 
»ce. 

)se,  which 
id  devour- 
e   was  so 

mountain 
L  into  the 

storming 
tween  the 
•wn  to  his 
ent  of  his 
,  0'    trees. 


"  Glooscap  overcame  other  inemies  in  sich  ways, 
until  he  was  able  to  go  about  his  business  in  peace! 
Another  leetle  tale  which  I  remember  o'  him  speaks 
well  for  his  intentions.     A  village  o'  people  was  at 
one  time  left  without  a  warrior  to  defend  it,  all  hav. 
ing  been  called  away  on  the  war-path.     Some  of  their 
inemies,  hearing  that  only  ol'  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren were  left,  thought  it  would  be  a  good  time  to 
pay  an  ol'  debt,  by  wiping  the  whole  place  out.     So 
the  war-party  dre,v  nigh  the  place,  and  seeing  'em 
coming,  and  knowing  the  peril  o'  the  homes  o'  some 
o'  his  favourite  people,  Glooscap  tied  stones  on  the 
feet  0-  the  invaders.  This  made  'em  so  tired  they  were 
glad  to  lie  down  and  rest  just  afore  they  reached 
the  village,  saying  to  'emselves  they  would  wake  just 
afore  dawn  and  sweep  down   on   the  town  like   an 
eagle  on  its  prey.     But  while  they  slept  Glooscap  let 
fly  an  arrow  from  his  mighty  bow  right  into  the  tops 
o'  the  trees  o'er  their  heads,  when  a  terrible  white 
frost  fell  upon  them,  closing  their  eyes  in  that  sleep 
which    knows   no   waking  this   side   o'   the    happy 
hunting-grounds. 

"So  far  man  and  animals  had  spoken  the  same 
language,  and  dwelt  much  together.  But  the  grow- 
ing wickedness  0'  the  four-footed  creatur's  so  dis- 
pleased Glooscap  that  he  called  a  mighty  council, 
when  all  the  beasts  o'  the  forests,  all  the  Indian 
hunters,  ol'  men,  women,  and  children  met  together. 


i)^ 


,r# 


1 


}^- 


w 


M 


H 


THK    VOVJVa  CUNBEAKER. 


He  then  toIH  'em  he  was  going  away,  but  that  some 
day  he  would  come  back  to  take  'em  with  him  to  the 
great  sky-wigwam  o'  his  father,  '^'hcn  a  strange 
thing  happened.  When  he  broke  up  the  council, 
dismissing  'em  all  with  a  wave  o'  his  hand,  lo !  each 
kind  o'  animal  spoke  a  different  language,  and  there 
was,  too,  many  tongues  sj^ken  by  the  people.  So 
it  has  been  ever  since.  The  Indians  are  still  waiting 
for  his  coming,  and  the  animals  look  forward  to  the 
time  when  all  shall  again  meet  in  harmony,  and  con- 
verse one  with  another.  All  o'  which  I  hoi'  is  a 
pretty  conceit,  lad. 

"  But  the  birch  has  flown  even  faster'n  my  tongue, 
for  here  we  are  at  the  mouth  o'  the  Gaspereau. 
Them  cottages  scattered  o'er  the  meadows  in  this 
vicinity  are  the  abiding-places  o'  the  habitants,  a 
people  o'  a  different  blood  from  the  Acadians,  but 
this  settlement  is  considered  to  be  a  part  o'  Grand 
Pr(^,  whither  we  are  bound.  We  can  ne'er  do 
better'n  to  run  up  the  creek  a  leetle  way,  and,  leav- 
ing our  canoe  on  the  bank,  perambulate  o'er  to  the 
other  settlement." 

Five  minutes  later  the  twain  had  run  in  ashore, 
and  pulling  their  light  craft  up  into  a  clump  of 
willows,  started  across  the  valley  toward  the  village 
of  Grand  Prd,  ci-nsidered  to  be  the  crown  of  AcaJia. 
Their  course  led  for  some  time  through  the  growth 
of  beech  and  maple  which  skirted  the  ridge  of  the 


~j-i^  H'yii'&~--.if:^^*^^smjir,i 


ht%\:\   ^--^i-tiM^^iti^  ^^J■^Bi*^>.ir'^^l6y[K*^^^<^^''^^^TOwai*' ■•'w'tRI 


TffE  FOREST  FORGE. 


«5 


at  some 
m  to  the 
strange 
council, 
lo !  each 
ind  there 
iple.     So 
.1  waiting 
d  to  the 
and  con- 
hol'  is  a 

y  tongue, 
iaspereau. 
j%  in  this 
hitanfs,  a 
dians,  but 
o'  Grand 
ne'er  do 
and,  leav- 
ler  to  the 

|n  ashore, 

[dump  of 

le  village 

If  Acadia. 

le  growth 
re  of  the 


Gaspcreau,  and  stretched  a'  ay  toward  the  south 
farther  than  the  eye  could  reach.  In  the  thick 
woods  the  beams  of  the  moon  penetrated  tecblj-,  so 
that  it  was  quite  dark  along  their  pathway,  as  they 
advamxd  wit''  the  stealthy  steps  •><■  ir  le  wcxKlsmen, 
until  they  paused  at  last  near  the  edge  of  the 
growth. 

"  How  still  it  is,  Woodranger,"  said  Rob,  in  a  low 
tone,  as  if  impressed  deeply  by  the  solemn  silence. 
"  Seems  as  if  there  was  no  one  besides  us  nearer 
than  yonder  cuttn^es  half  a  mile  away." 

"An  amazing  speech  for  you,  Rob,  who  is  no 
novice  in  the  ways  o'  natur'.  There  be  some  one  at 
our  elbows." 

Though  there  was  no  indication  of  alarm  in  the 
simple  statement,  Rob  Rogers  started,  and  looked 
hastily  around,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  some  one 
step  from  out  of  the  shadows  into  his  presence. 
There  was  no  living  creature  to  be  seen,  or  any  sifc'n 
of  life.     The  Woodranger  smiled,  saying  : 

"  Dost  think  me  dissembling,  lad  .'  List  an  ear  to 
that  sound.  If  there  be  not  a  human  hand  'pon  that 
hammer  I'll  ne'er  prate  o'  what  in  all  consistency  I 
can  ne'er  know." 

As  the  Woodranger  gave  utterance,  in  a  low  tone, 
to  his  speech,  the  low  ting-a-ling  of  two  metals 
brought  sharply  together  reached  their  ears.  The 
sound    came   from   his   right,    and   the   boy   ranger 


*„ 


■:\' 


1  '  r^ 


■*? 


I 


26 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


ti'rned  quickly  in  that  direction,  when  he  noticed  for 
the  first  time  that  the  view  was  cut  off  a  few  rods 
away  by  a  dense  growth  of  underbrush. 

"  Chide  not  thyself,  lad,  that  you  let  your  eyes  for 
once  stop  your  ears.  If  my  memory  has  not  taken 
to  the  cunning  o'  deceit,  yon  thicket  o'  ragged  robin 
is  the  shop  o'  Le  Noir  the  gunsmith,  whose  ways  seem 
to  me  like  his  face,  dark.  At  any  rate,  we  should 
ne'er  be  faithful  to  the  trust  reposed  in  us  by  William 
should  we  cross  his  path  without  due  discretion. 
Mebbe  it  will  do  no  harm  to  sort  o'  look  over  the 
premises  in  secret,  seeing  it  must  be  sor  e  uncommon 
object  which  keeps  the  smith  at  his  forge  at  this 
hour." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  from  his  companion,  the 
Woodranger  advanced  with  his  swift,  silent  steps  in 
the  direction  indicated  by  the  sounds.  Rob,  vexed 
that  he  had  for  once  been  outdone  by  his  companion 
in  woodcraft,  followed  as  rapidly  and  noiselessly  as  he. 
In  the  forest  it  was  too  dark  to  see  an  object  with  any 
distinctness,  but  they  had  not  gone  fir  before  the 
glimmer  of  a  light  shimmered  through  the  dense 
undergrowth  ahead. 

The  gray  tracing  of  a  road  winding  through  the 
woods  was  now  to  be  seen,  but  the  Woodratnger 
avoided  this  and  kept  to  their  left^  until  their  prog- 
ress was  stopped  by  the  mass  of  shrubbery.  Through 
this  obstruction  struggled  the  glimmer  of  a  light.    The 


-■^''*^>^ifc-'W!?S'i^^'V  '■  ' 


:CtV.^H.!«®s?';»&--*«»S(ii«S£§Si 


oticed  for 
£ew  rods 

ir  eyes  for 
not  taken 
gged  robin 
ways  seem 
we  should 
by  William 
discretion, 
k  over  the 
uncommon 
irge  at  this 

ipanion,  the 
;nt  steps  in 
Rob,  vexed 
1  companion 
lessly  as  he. 
;ct  with  any 
before  the 
the  dense 


VVoodranger  parted  the  foliage  with  one  hand,  when 
he  and  his  companion  gazed  on  a  scene  of  striking 
effect. 

The  Woodranger  had  pulled  aside  the  shrul  jery 
at  a  place  where  an  aperture  in  the  rough  wall  of  the 
building  had  once  been  a  window,  but  which  the  over- 
hanging vines  had  now  completely  draped,  to  the 
exclusion  of  sunlight  and  air.  The  place  upon  which 
they  looked  was  the  smoke-begrimed  smithy  of 
Le  Noir  the  gunmaker,  now  lighted  by  the  fire  on 
the  forge  and  a  torch  stuck  in  a  crevice  of  the  stone 
chimney.  This  light  was  adjusted  to  shine  to  the 
best  advantage  upon  the  anvil  placed  near  the  forge. 
Scattered  about  on  the  dusty  floor  was  a  miscellaneous 
array  of  tools,  scraps  of  iron,  horse-shoes,  and  other 
belongings  of  a  blacksmith.  The  wide  door  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  smithy  was  open,  a  refreshing 
breeze  from  the  surrounding  forest  filling  the  shop, 
while  a  wide  sheen  of  moonlight  fell  upon  the  floor. 


[hrough  the 
^oodratnger 
their  prog- 
Through 
light.    The 


f5J 


-j^t 


I' 


I' J 


CHAPTER    III. 


AN    OLD    GAME. 


While  the  Woodranger  and  Robert  Rogers  were 
paddling  leisurely  up  the  Strait  of  Minas,  the  boys 
of  Grand  Prd  were  pitching  horseshoes  in  frienrily 
rivalry  with  the  youth  of  a  neighbouring  village.  The 
ring  of  metal  striking  metal,  the  merry  shouts  of 
triumph,  and  the  medley  of  boyish  voices  in  argu- 
ment over  some  disputed  point  told  that  the  game 
was  a  spirited  one. 

The  playgroun'l  was  the  wide  lane  leading  f  om  the 
single  street  of  the  town,  under  an  arcade  of  apple- 
trees,  to  the  picturesque  home  of  the  Acadian  farmer, 
Benedict  le  Fontaine.  To  the  right  of  the  pitchers, 
as  they  stood  with  the  slanting  rays  of  the  westering 
sun  falling  over  their  shoulders,  could  be  seen  the 
loniT  row  of  cottages  making  the  village  of  Grand  Prd, 
ite   walls  and  thatched   roofs  in  most  cases 


'i ;  lO    w*" ' 

i;;i''  '-.idden  by  embowering  willows  and  apple 
orcL  •  vS.  To  the  south,  behind  these  groves,  and 
beyond  the  cluster  of  trees  affording  shade  and  pro- 
tection to  the  buildings  and  grounds  of  Le  Fontaine, 

38 


.4M?J.'fc'^!^S9Sffii<iXSSSsl'£?JiH^i^S^i 


AN  OLD  GAME. 


29 


3gers  were 
,  the  boys 
in  frienrily 
lage.  The 
shouts  of 
;s  in  argu- 
:  the  game 

ig  f-om  the 
le  of  apple- 
|ian  farmer, 
,e  pitchers, 
westering 
|e  seen  the 
[Grand  Pr(^, 
lost  cases 
and   apple 
roves,  and 
ie  and  pro- 
Fontaine, 


lay  the  wide-spreading  meadows  which  had  given 
name  to  the  town.  Every  foot  of  these  fertile  acres 
had  been  lescued  from  the  hungry  sea  held  at  bay  by 
a  far-reaching  line  of  dikes,  whose  gray  wall  could  be 
seen  in  the  distance,  while  beyond  that  rose  and  fell 
the  fitful  tide  of  Minas  Basin. 

A  short  distance  apart  from  the  youthful  players 
was  another  gathering,  over  which  hung  a  spell  of 
repose  in  better  keeping  with  the  lazy  atmosphere. 
The  individuals  comprising  this  company  were  a 
representative  body  of  ra'  n  upon  whose  countenances 
care  at  all  times  sat  lightly.  On  this  particular 
occasion,  their  hay-bins  well  filled,  the  corn  in  its 
milk,  the  flax-fields  reddening  in  the  summer  sun, 
between  the  two  seasons  of  harvest,  their  sole  duty 
to  look  after  the  fattening  flocks,  an  hour  that  might 
otherwise  have  hung  heavily  was  wi.iied  away  in  light 
story-telling,  drinking  cider  flip,  or  watching  the  airy 
gyrations  of  the  luck-bringing  hor.seshoe  flung  by  the 
hand  of  a  youthful  pleasure-seeker. 

That  it  was  eminently  a  respectable  party  was 
shown  by  the  presence  of  a  tall,  sedate,  dark-robed 
man,  who,  regardless  of  his  clerical  calling,  laughed 
with  the  merriest  and  cheered  with  the  loudest  over 
the  skilful  manoeuvres  of  the  players.  He  was  Father 
Fafard,  the  village  cure,  whom  all  knew  and  loved. 
Near  him  reclined  on  a  rustic  beiich  Jean  Hebert, 
the  notary  public.     Another,  as  dear  to  the  hearts  of 


ill 


HI 


30 


THK    YOUNG    GUNBEAKER. 


his  companions  as  those  named,  was  the  owner  of 
this  quaint,  pastoral  home,  a  middie-aged  farmer 
whom  old  arti  young  were  accustomed  to  address,  in 
the  familiar  manner  of  these  plain  people,  as  "  Good 
Benedict."  He  was  the  same  our  inspired  Long- 
fellow immortalised  in  poetic  story.  Others  were 
present  who  were  scarcely  of  less  account,  so  it  was 
a  very  respectable  party  drawn  hither,  enjoying  alter- 
nately the  boyish  tournament  and  the  hospitality  of 
the  generous-hearted  farmer. 

Their  surroundings  were  typical  of  an  Acadian 
home.  The  cottage,  a  type  of  Norman  architecture, 
with  low,  broad  eaves  overhanging  'he  walls  by  a 
wide  margin,  dormer  windows,  and  projecting  gables, 
stood  on  a  slight  eminence,  so  that  it  commanded  an 
extensive  panorama  of  country.  Seen  through  the 
openings  of  the  network  of  woodbine  overhanging 
them,  the  walls  were  white,  except  the  casings  of 
door  and  windows,  which  had  been  given  a  coat  of 
dusky  brown  by  a  liquid  mixture  of  ash  and  lime.  In 
front  of  the  dwelling,  with  its  top  overarching  the 
roof, "stood  the  "  family  maple,"  a  hug.i,  gnarled  sugar- 
maple  claimed  to  have  been  growing  there  when  the 
first  house  at  Grand  Vxh  had  been  built.  Under  its 
thickly  matted  branches  the  family  had  often  passed 
the  heated  period  of  the  day  and  eaten  their  evening 
meal,  while  here  Benedict  delighted  most  to  enter- 
tain his  friends.      Against  the  rugged  trunk  he  had 


^^^^i^^SiS:iS^£>^'^^^^X'h&iis^3^^'^^)^i 


AN  OLD   GAME. 


31 


)wner  of 
!    farmer 
Idress,  in 
,s  "  Good 
;d   Long- 
lers  were 
so  it  was 
,ring  alter- 
pitality  of 

.  Acadian 
:hitecture, 
rails  by  a 
ng  gables, 
Handed  an 
rough  the 
rerhang'.ng 
casings  of 
1  a  coat  of 
1  lime.    In 
ching  the 
led  sugar- 
when  the 
Under  its 
ten  passed 
;ir  evening 
to  enter- 
Ink  he  had 


arranged  a  shelf  to  hold  pipes,  tobacco,  mugs,  and  a 
quaintly  shaped  pitcher,  an  heirloom  in  the  family, 
and  usually  filled  with  the  best  cider  julep  to  be 
found  in  that  land  of  the  red  apple.  Rustic  benches 
were  ranged  about  for  the  comfort  of  the  guests  who 
preferred  them  to  reposing  at  full  length,  as  many 
were  now,  on  the  deep  green  sward  of  velvety  soft- 
ness. By  the  side  of  a  younger  maple,  a  short  dis- 
tance away,  a  box  had  been  placed,  containing  the 
image  of  the  blessed  Mary,  and  a  drawer  to  hold 
offerings  for  the  poor. 

A  little  below  these  trees  was  the  orchard,  loaded 
with  the  season's  fruit,  already  taking  on  the  pink  and 
gold  of  the  harvest  hues.  Down  through  this  invit- 
ing grove  a  footpath  ran  as  straight  as  a  string  from 
the  door  to  a  spring  of  refreshing  water.  A  little 
removed  from  the  astern  end  of  the  cottage  was  a 
row  of  beehives,  overhung  with  a  drapery  of  melon 
and  cucumber  vines.  Under  the  shade  of  a  brown 
cherry-tree  a  hen  had  burro'ved  into  the  cool  earth, 
while  half  a  doz,en  tiny  heads  peeped  shyly  from 
under  her  expansive  wings.  By  the  stone  step,  with 
his  great  red  tongue  out,  and  his  sides  working 
furiously,  as  he  panted  under  his  warm  coat,  la^  the 
house  dog.  Over  his  head,  nailed  upon  the  casing  of 
the  door,  with  two  or  three  rusty,  twisted  nails  left  in 
their  holes,  was  the  horseshoe  of  good  luck.  In  this 
case  its  charm  could  not  be  refuted. 


.a? 


;i 


1 1 


32 


77/A     YOUNG    GUNBF.ARER. 


A  little  to  the  rear,  and  placed  so  as  to  protect  the 
cottage  from  the  storms  of  winter,  were  the  barns 
and  folds  for  the  sheep,  the  deep  bins  of  the  former 
filled  to  overflowing  with  hay  and  barley.  In  the 
yard  were  to  be  seen  the  rude  farm  implements  of 
the  time,  and  the  two-wheeled  wains  with  their  wir  1 
rims  and  wooden  axles.  In  one  corner  were  placed 
one  above  another  the  short  sleds  used  in  winters. 
There  were  also  ploughs  of  ancient  pattern,  with 
straight  handles  and  heavy,  awkward  beams,  harrows, 
and  smaller  tools  used  npon  the  farm. 

A  steep  staircase  on  the  outside  of  the  barn  led  to 
the  corn  loft  now  open,  ready  to  receive  the  growing 
crop  as  soon  as  it  should  be  harvested.  To  one  side 
of  this,  sheltered  by  the  wide,  overhanging  eaves, 
was  a  row  of  dove-cotes,  from  which  at  present 
came  no  sign  of  life,  though  many  a  white,  blue,  or 
yellow  bunch  of  soft  feathers  bespoke  the  presence 
of  the  peaceful  inmates.  Concealed  somewhere  in 
the  odor  >us  hay  was  a  shrill-toned  August  cricket, 
v  hose  piircing  notes  told  that  he,  at  least,  of  all  in 
'his  pastoral  scene  was  keenly  alive  to  his  love  of 
song  and  work. 

In  the  midst  of  this  a  lazy  good  humour  reigned, 
broken  now  and  then  by  some  outburst  from  the 
boys  or  the  shrill  cries  of  the  cricket,  until  the  host, 
placing  the  drinking-mug  back  upon  its  accustomed 
rest,  asked  of  one  of  his  guests  : 


ilSg^gSa3», 


•t 


AN  OLD  GAME. 


33 


eir  wK  ^ 
J  placed 
winters, 
rn,  with 
harrows, 


rn  led  to 
growing 
one  side 
ig  eaves, 
present 
jlue,  or 
presence 
lere  in 
cricket, 
of  all  in 
love  of 

reigned, 
:rom  the 
the  host, 
:ustomed 


"  What  hast  caught  your  alert  eye,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Only  a  speck  on  the  horizon,  good  Benedict,  but 
so  rapidly  has  it  grown  that  I  fear  me  it  broods  a 
storm." 

At  this  several  of  the  party  looked  in  the  direction 
of  the  setting  sun,  to  discover  what  had  escapetl  their 
notice  so  far,  —  a  gray  fleece  hanging  between  the 
earth  and  the  sky,  too  low  to  belong  to  the  one,  too 
high  to  be  a  part  of  the  other.  Presently  Jean  Hebert 
explained  the  mystery. 

"  It  looks  to  me  like  a  cloud  of  dust  flung  up  from 
the  dry  road  by  the  feet  of  a  flying  horse.  Am  I  not 
right,  good  Benedict }  It  is  coming  rapidly  nearer,  — 
some  one  is  riding  a  mad  chase." 

"  Who  rides  a  steed  like  that  ruins  a  good  horse," 
replied  Benedict,  who,  on  all  occasions,  seemed  to 
be  the  oracle  of  the  village.  "  But  whoever  he  be, 
no  man  could  ride  like  that  who  was  not  capable  of 
looking  out  for  his  own  welfare.  Go  on,  good 
Gabriel,  and  tell  us  more  of  the  Order  of  Good 
Cheer  that  reigned  at  Port  Royal  in  the  days  of 
Louis  the  Great." 

Meanwhile  two  comely  youths  had  stepped  forth 
from  among  the  young  rivals,  to  struggle  for  the 
honours  of  the  pastime  in  which  they  were  engaged. 
These  two,  the  objects  of  all  eyes  now,  presented 
a  marked  contrast  in  personal  appearance.  The 
older  of  these,  by  name  Michel  Vallie,  who  lived  on 


-■»» 


^'■IS 


34 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


the  Habitant  beyond  the  deep-set  wood  of  the  G?.s- 
pereau,  was  a  stalwart  youth  of  eighteen,  with  dark 
features,  flashing  black  eyes,  and  an  air  of  confidence 
which  promised  to  stand  him  well  in  the  trial  to 
follow. 

His  contestant  was  Alexander  Briant,  the  appren- 
tice of  Basil  le  Noir,  the  gunmaker  of  Acadia,  whose 
smithy  stood  under  th."^  edge  of  the  beech  wood  on 
the  road  leading  to  the  west  country.  Alex  was  at 
least  two  years  younger  than  Michel,  though  his 
slender  figure  was  quite  as  tall  as  the  other's.  He 
had  blue  eyes  and  a  light  skin,  which  together  told 
that  he,  at  least,  did  not  come  from  those  of  Norman 
blood.  In  truth,  his  parents  had  come  from  Scot- 
land, but  if  not  of  the  sarue  race  as  his  associates,  his 
frankness  and  open-hearted  generosity  had  won  for 
him  a  host  of  friends  in  Grand  Pr^.  If  less  bulky 
in  frame  than  his  rival,  his  bare  arms  showed  muscles 
hardened  by  work,  which  is  the  secret  and  power  of 
success. 

The  score  now  stood  at  forty-two  for  the  boys  of 
Grand  Pre,  with  forty-five  credited  to  their  rivals 
from  the  Habitant.  As  the  count  was  for  fifty  the 
home  team  must  rely  solely  on  young  Alex,  if  they 
were  to  win  the  tournament. 

It  had  been  the  rule  that  each  competing  pair 
should  toss  up  to  see  who  would  pitch  the  first  dis- 
cus, and  the  one  gaining  the  second  position  must 


■  ''it^^^!t!si;fM^'M^^j^i^V.: 


'Mi~if:^na^^'f~^-^^Si 


■^ 


AN  OLD  GAME. 


35 


throw  also  the  third  quoit,  thus  leaving  him  who 
had  tossed  the  first  shoe  the  privilege  of  closing 
their  personal  contest,  when  their  scores  were  added 
to  their  respective  teams.  This  plan  had  proved 
very  satisfactory. 

It  fell  to  Alex  to  lead  this  time,  and,  stepping  to 
the  home  meg,  he  sent  his  first  shoe  descrying  a 
circle  through  the  air  before  his  friends  or  rival  had 
been  quick  enough  to  follow  its  airy  flight.  So 
well  directed  was  the  discus  that  it  fell  just  inside 
the  goal,  and,  slipping  through  the  light  sand, 
stopped  only  when  it  had  fairly  encircled  the  stout 
stake. 

"A  ringer  —  counts  three!"  cried  half  a  dozen 
spectatois  in  the  same  breath,  and  cheering  awoke 
the  laboured  silence  of  the  previous  moment.  The 
score  of  th  players  now  stood  even  at  forty-five. 
But  there  was  a  chance  that  Michel  might  undo  the 
feat  of  Alex,  as  a  removal  of  this  shoe  would  take 
the  count  from  the  owner's  credit  and  place  it  to 
that  of  the  successful  rival. 

"Michel  surely  wins,"  cried  an  admirer.  "See, 
he  carries  his  luck  shoes.  Where  now  are  your 
boasts,  you  boys  of  Grand  Pr6  .' " 

As  soon  as  the  cheering  had  subsided  the  young 
habitan  advanced  to  the  meg,  and  poised  himself 
slowly  and  carefully  for  his  first  throw.  The  silence 
of   the   spectators   was   broken    by   the  discordant 


-%*: 


H^ 


*5 


t 


36 


THE    YOUNG    GUNBEAREfi- 


scream  of  a  jay  perched  in  the  top  of  an  apple-tree. 
The  cry  coming  at  the  moment  when  the  pitcher 
sent  his  shoe  flying  on  its  way,  caused  him  to  give 
an  undue  jerk  to  his  elbow,  which  caused  the  discus 
to  fly  wide  of  its  goal.  He  claimed  the  bird  had 
startled  him,  and  asked  the  privilege  of  repeating  the 
attempt,  which  was  finally  granted. 

Descrying  a  beautiful  circle  in  the  air  the  second 
time,  the  homely  discus,  tuniing  like  a  wheel  in 
space,  dropped  beside  the  pin,  and  pitting  its  corks 
firmly  into  the  ground,  lay  where  it  had  fallen,  fairly 
touching  the  meg.  There  was  no  cheering,  for  the 
result  had  not  met  the  expectations  of  his  friends, 
though  the  effort  had  not  been  an  entire  failure. 

The  second  shoe,  span  from  his  experienced  hand, 
went  whirling  through  space,  and  settled  at  just  the 
righl  angle  to  drop  over  beside  the  meg,  striking 
Alex's  shoe  with  a  dull  ring  as  it  tipped  up  against 
the  meg  on  top  of  both  the  others. 

There  was  cheering  then,  though  the  Habitant 
champion  still  lacked  two  points  of  a  victory.  Alex 
could  not  hope  to  win,  they  reasoned. 

Alex  now  took  his  position,  while  his  companions 
held  their  breath.  The  cheering  ended,  and  silence 
again  reigned,  as  his  last  shoe  sped  on  its  mission. 
The  thrower  stood  like  a  statue  in  his  tracks,  until 
the  gyrating  quoit  struck  the  goal  with  a  loud  ring 
of  metal.     The  two  shoes  of  Michel  were  sent  hurt- 


Aff  OLD    GAME. 


11 


ling  in  opposite  directions,  while  that  of  Alex  settled 
squarely  about  the  meg,  and  remained  there. 

All  previous  cheering  was  outdone  now.  The 
boys  of  Grand  Pr^  were  exultant.  It  was  two  or 
three  minutes  before  the  referee  could  make  himself 
heard  to  announce : 

"  A  double  ringer  for  Alex  Briant,  counts  six  ;  the 
taking  of  his  opponent's  count,  three ;  in  all,  nine ; 
makes  fifty-one  for  the  boys  of  Grand  Pr(?,  and  they 
have  won  the  game." 


! 


I 


m 


] 


i 


~y. 


i^5 


'>i 


I 


II  rj 
i 


CHAPTER   IV. 


NEWS    OF    WAR. 


The  tumult  of  applause  which  followed  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  referee  in  the  game  of  the  boys, 
as  well  as  the  most  interesting  point  in  the  story 
being  told  under  the  maple,  was  suddenly  checked 
by  the  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs,  and  the  appearance 
of  a  horseman  coming  upon  the  scene  at  breakneck 
speed.  At  sight  of  the  wondering  throngs  of  boys 
and  men,  he  turned  from  the  main  street  and  came 
along  the  lane  without  slowing  up  the  speed  of  his 
foam-flecked  steed.  Stopping  the  furious  pace  of 
the  animal  with  an  abruptness  which  nearly  threw  it 
from  its  feet,  and  which  threatened  to  unseat  him,  he 
cried,  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  News  from  Port  Royal  i '  A  regiment  of  the 
English  have  been  surprised  and  killed  or  captured. 
The  town  is  now  at  the  mercy  of  our  soldiers. 
Terms  of  capitulation  are  being  drawn  up.  Acadie 
is  free ! " 

'  This  name  had  been  changed  to  Annapolis-Royal  by  the  Eng- 
lish, but  the  French  still  clung  to  the  original  Port  Royal. 

38 


11  i 

'11 

(:fl 


f/ElVS  OF   II'AK. 


39 


The  listeners  stcHul  with  open-mouthed  wonder, 
unable  to  credit  their  hearing,  or,  even  if  thinking 
they  had  heard  aright,  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the 
newcomer's  wild  alarm. 

"Hold,  sir!"  commanded  Heneditt  I'i  Fontaine, 
by  far  the  most  calm  of  the  crowd  ;  '*  jirithce,  what 
means  this  speech  ?  " 

'« That  the  triumph  of  France  has  come  at  last. 
Ay,  gooil  Hcncdict,  ere  the  frosts  of  autumn  shall 
have  blighted  yon  cucumber  vine  the  lilies  of  Louis 
will  once  more  wave  over  Acadie." 

"  God  forbid  that  the  meadows  of  Grand  Pr6  shall 
ever  again  be  deluged  with  blood,  as  they  have  been 
many  times,"  declared  the  farmer,  fervently. 

"  Amen,"  said  Father  Fafard,  solemnly,  crossing 
his  hands  on  his  breast. 

«'  What !  be  gone  so  soon .'  "  asked  Benedict,  as  the 
rider  gathered  up  his  reins. 

"  I  speed  the  glorious  news  to  the  habitans." 

'•  If  thou  must  ride  on,  have  a  drink  of  julep," 
handing  him  the  well-filled  mug,  which  the  other 
seized  and  drained  at  a  single  quaff.  Then,  waving 
his  hand  to  the  half-frightened  spectators,  he  touched 
smartly  his  jaded  horse,  and  the  next  moment  was  rid- 
ing swiftly  in  the  direction  of  the  Gaspereau  district. 

While  these  peace-loving  people,  unable  to  com- 
prehend the  tidings  he  had  told,  stood  watching  the 
messenger  of  war,  as  he  sped  on  his  merciless  errand, 


''Ck 


i 


% 


f 


.4**^ 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 

the  clear,  solemn  notes  of  the  Angelus  fell  upon  the 
hushed  scene. 

The  last  peal  of  the  evening  bell  had  died  away, 
and  the  men  and  boys  were  beginning  to  disperse  in 
groups  to  talk  over  the  afternoon's  proceedings,  when 
some  one  pulled  at  Alex's  arm,  and,  turning  about,  he 
discovered  beside  him  a  pretty  girl  a  few  years  his 
junior. 

"  Oh,  /.lex  !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  your  father 
is  at  the  shop.  I  saw  him  as  I  was  coming  past.  He 
wants  you  to  come  to  him  at  once.  I  am  afraid  he  is 
dying.     He  charged  me  to  tell  you  to  come  alone." 

"  I  will  go  at  once,  Evangeline,  trusting  it  is  not 
as  bad  as  you  think.  You  were  very  kind  to  do  this 
errand." 

Without  stopping  to  make  any  explanations,  Alex 
started  toward  Le  Noir's  smithy,  leaving  the  others  to 
think  he  had  received  a  call  to  work.  As  has  been 
stated,  Basil  the  blacksmith  or  gunmaker,  for  he  plied 
his  craft  with  equal  aleptness,  whether  it  was  shoe- 
ing a  horse  or  putting  together  the  intricate  parts  of 
a  gun,  had  his  shop  under  cover  of  the  woods,  where 
the  jays  sang  their  sauciest  songs  and  the  squiricls 
played  their  boldest  pranks,  on  good  terms  with  this 
man  of  a  warlike  trade.  His  shop  was  known  as  the 
rendezvous  of  many  of  the  discontented  sons  of  New 
France,  who  fretted  at  the  fact  of  being  under 
British  rule,  while  themselves  claiming  to  be  French- 


•^3M^:y^^m 


men.  Le  Noir  was  of  Basque  descent  himself,  but 
u  hater  of  the  English.  His  father  had  been  a  sort 
of  lord  over  the  region  of  the  Canard,  but  English 
supremacy  had  taken  his  possessions  from  him,  and 
he  died  leaving  his  wife  and  son  poor,  with  a  heritage 
of  hatred  for  the  British. 

No  sooner  had  Alex  come  in  sight  of  the  smithy, 
than  he  saw,  lying  across  the  grimy  threshold,  a  man 
whom  he  recognised  as  his  father,  who  had  been 
away  from  home  for  over  a  month. 

"  What  has  happened,  father  ?  "  he  cried,  anxiously. 

Upon  hearing  his  voice,  the  fallen  man  moved  a 
little,  saying,  in  a  husky  voice  : 

"  I  am  wounded,  Alex.  I  was  shot  by  a  party  of 
French  while  trying  to  carry  a  message  of  the  danger 
of  the  English  to  the  governor.  I  am  hunted  as  a 
spy  by  the  French.  I  must  get  home  as  soon  as  I 
can,  and  before  I  am  seen." 

"  I  will  help  you,  father.  Ay,  here  comes  Basil ; 
he  will  help.     He  has  come  home  before  —  " 

"  No  —  no,  my  son,  he  must  not  see  me.  You  do 
not  understand.  He  favours  the  French.  I  am 
hunted  as  an  enemy  to  them, —  a  spy.  Is  Basil 
coming  to  the  shop  .'  " 

"  Yes,  father,"  replied  the  now  frightened  Alex. 
"  What  shall  I  do  > " 

"Conreal  me  somewhere.  I  cannot  go  another 
step,  and  to  be  found  here  would  be  death." 


■  ...  ij 


.v^ 


I  i  '-mi 


•s> 


42 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


Alex  proved  himself  a  brave  boy,  and,  though  for 
a  moment  taken  aback  at  his  father's  starthng 
announcement,  his  presence  of  mind  quickly  returned. 
Looking  swiftly  around,  he  saw  that  there  was  ample 
room  behind  the  forge  to  conceal  his  father  from  the 
searching  gaze  of  the  gunmaker.  Surely  the  other 
would  not  long  remain  at  the  smithy  at  this  late  hour. 
As  soon  as  the  smith  should  go  home  he  could  return 
for  his  father.  He  hurriedly  told  his  plan,  and  then 
lent  such  assistance  as  he  could  toward  helping  the 
fugitive  to  a  place  of  concealment.  The  latter  could 
not  suppress  a  cry  of  pain,  as  he  moved. 

"The  wound  has  broken  out  afresh,  now  I  have 
moved.  But  it  will  stop  bleeding  as  soon  as  I  am 
quiet  again.  Work  quickly,  my  son,  or  it  will  be 
too  late." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  reached  the  dark  nook 
selected,  and  then  sank  heavily  upon  the  blackened 
mivss  of  dirt,  cinders,  and  iron  filings  accumulated 
in  the  dingy  corner.  Alex  had  barely  time  to  cover 
his  lower  limbs  with  the  debris,  and  throw  a  couple 
of  old  aprons  over  his  head  and  body,  before  the 
burly  form  of  Basil  le  Noir  appeared  in  the  door- 
way. His  first  words  seemed  to  indicate  to  Alex 
that  he  mistrusted  something  of  what  had  taken 
place,  though  it  may  have  been  only  his  imagination. 

"Alone,  Alex.'  Has  no  one  been  here  since  I 
went  away  ? " 


nook 


NEfVS  OF  iVAR. 


43 


"  Pierre  called  soon  after  noon  to  have  a  shoe  reset 
that  his  horse  had  thrown,"  replied  the  young  smith. 
"  No  one  calling  after  him,  I  took  the  liberty,  as  you 
said  I  might,  to  leave  the  shop  long  enough  to  pitch 
shoes  with  the  Grand  Pr^  boys  against  the  habitans." 

"  And  won  a  handsome  victory  from  them,  eh,  lad  ? 
You  are  a  bright  fellow,  Alex,  and  I  hold  no  grudge 
against  you,  let  them  say  what  they  will  of  your 
father.  Your  day's  work  is  over,  but  on  your  way 
home  I  wish  you  would  find  Jean  le  Craft,  and  give 
him  my  compliments,  telling  him  to  call  t^  my  house 
three  hours  hence.  Mind  you  this  is  for  his  ear  ouly. 
Now  hasten.  I  will  remain  at  the  smithy  until  I 
have  finished  that  new  gun  for  Indian  John,  though 
I  have  to  do  it  by  forge-light." 

Here  was  a  dilemma  Alex  had  not  counted  upon, 
and  he  hesitated,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  Should 
he  refuse  to  perform  the  slight  duty  asked  of  him  by 
his  master,  he  would  at  once  arouse  the  suspicious 
nature  of  Le  Noir,  while  he  did  not  like  to  leave  the 
shop  for  a  moment.  But  he  quickly  decided  that  it 
was  best  for  him  to  do  the  errand,  and  return  as 
speedily  as  possible,  with  the  hope  that  his  father 
would  not  be  discovered  during  his  absence.  Accord- 
ingly, though  not  without  great  misgivings,  he  left 
ihe  smithy.  After  watching  him  out  of  sight,  the 
gunsmith  started  toward  the  forge. 


/>J^ 


1?^ 


*. 

1^}^ 


K£ 


ili 


I?  * 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE    SON    OF    A    SPY, 


Alex  Briant  had  not  been  gone  long  on  his 
errand,  and  Le  Noir  had  barely  fanned  the  forge  fire 
into  renewed  life,  when  the  Woodranger  and  Rob 
Rogers  appeared  at  the  opening  in  the  shrubbery 
behind  the  smithy,  and  fixed  their  gaze  upon  the 
owner  of  this  primitive  shop.  At  that  moment  he 
was  standing  near  the  anvil,  his  left  elbow  resting  on 
his  hip,  while  he  poised  in  his  hand  on  a  level  with 
his  eye  a  newly  made  gun.  Holding  it  steadily  in 
that  position,  he  closely  scanned  both  stock  and 
barrel,  as  if  giving  the  weapon  a  final  examination. 

He  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man,  with  a  heavy 
mass  of  coal-black  hair,  beard,  and  beetling  eyebrows, 
which  met  in  a  snarl  over  his  nose.  Evidently  he 
was  well  pleased  with  his  work,  for  a  smile  suffused 
his  dark  countenance,  and  his  steel-gray  eyes  sparkled 
with  a  look  of  triumph.  But  his  pleasure  was  short- 
lived, for  a  moment  later  a  shadow  fell  across  the 
glare  of  the  forge,  as  a  newcomer,  as  tall,  or  taller 
than  he,  and  clothed  m  black  from  head  to  foot, 
paused  in  front  of  him. 

44 


THE  SON  OF  A   SPY. 


Although  the  gunmaker  was  taken  by  surprise,  the 
Woodnnger  had  seen  this  stranger  as  he  had  stepped 
silently  over  the  worn  threshold,  and  touching  Rob 
lightly,  whispered  in  his  ear : 

"The  Dark  Abbe,  and  French  spy." 

This  strange  individual,  whose  tall  figure  would 
have  been  ol  still  greater  height  had  it  not  been  for 
a  stoop  of  the  shoulders,  was  of  swarthy  complexion, 
though  not  as  dark  as  the  gunmaker.  His  face  was 
cleanly  shaven,  the  roots  of  his  black  beard  giving  an 
undue  darkness  to  his  skin.  His  countenance  was 
long,  the  jaws  massive,  the  lips  thin,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  cruelty  rather  than  sanctity  hovering  over 
them.  His  outer  garment  was  a  black  cassock, 
girthed  up  for  marching  through  the  forest. 

He  smiled  at  the  gunmakei's  display  of  fright  at 
his  sudden  appearance,  saying  : 

"Forgive  me,  Basil  le  Noir,  if  I  caught  you  off 
your  guard.  A  guilty  mind  needs  time  to  put  on 
its  armour  before  meeting  a  faithful  follower  of  the 
cross." 

"  I  must  own  you  did  surprise  me,  good  father,  the 
more  to  my  shame,"  acknowledged  the  gunmaker, 
showing  that  he  felt  his  discomfiture  more  than  he 
cared  to  own.     "  What  cheer  bring  you  now  > " 

At  this  juncture,  unobserved  by  either  of  the 
men,  Alex  Briant  appeared  upon  the  scene.  He 
stopped  near  a  bench  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 


'■m 


i-    ' 


I 


46 


r//£    YOUNG    GUNBEARER. 


shop,  Standing  as  if  transfixed  at  the  sight  of  the 
two  men. 

«'  It  is  time  to  act,"  replied  the  Dark  AbW,  and  the 
simple  speech  must  have  been  very  significant  to  the 
other,  for  he  trembled  and  turned  his  gaze  toward 
the  floor.  "  It  looks  as  if  you,  too,  realised  it,  else 
why  does  the  gunmaker  of  Acadie  ply  his  craft  with 
so  much  industry  at  this  hour }  The  Angelus  some- 
time since  ceased  its  waning  notes." 

As  Le  Noir  made  no  reply,  he  continued,  after  a 
brief  pause : 

"  Does  the  heart  of  Basil  the  craftsman  shrink  at 
the  tnought  of  duty.'  The  French  are  triumphant 
at  Port  Royal.  It  is  time  the  heretics  were  driven 
from  the  valley  of  the  Gaspereau.  Is  there  reason  to 
doubt  your  fidelity  to  the  noble  cause?" 

"  Basil  le  Noir  has  armed  more  Micmacs  than  any 
other  man  m  New  France,"  replied  the  gimsmith, 
cautiously. 

"  Forgive  me,  good  Basil  ;  I  doubt  not  your  i;eart 
is  as  true  as  the  guns  you  have  made  to  help  us  pooi: 
down-trodden  people  to  live  under  British  rule.  The 
Micmacs  are  still  faithful.  If  the  sons  of  Grand  Pr^ 
are  half  as  true,  it  will  not  be  long  ere  the  golden 
lilies  of  France  will  again  wave  by  the  side  of  the 
cross  over  Acadie." 

The  gunmaker  still  held  the  unfinished  gun  poised 
in  his  left  hand,  as  if  the  limb  had  become  rigid,  and 


joised 
1,  and 


THE  SON  OF  A  SPY. 


47 


his  steely  eye  now  looked  the  priest  squarely  in 
the  face,  though  his  voice  quavered  slightly  as  he 
demanded : 

"  Hast  come  recently  from  Quebec  :  " 

"  Straight  as  the  crow  flies,  good  Basil.  And  there 
to-night  the  eyes  of  the  nobles  of  New  France  are 
fixed  upon  the  sons  of  Acadie." 

It  was  not  Basil  le  Noir's  nature  to  yield  easily.  If 
a  moment  before  he  had  feared  this  man  before  him, 
and  trembled  at  his  glance,  he  had  now  recovered  his 
usual  stubbornness,  and  he  said,  to  the  abba's  surprise  : 

"  In  Quebec  the  crushed  people  groan  and  writhe 
under  the  taxes  and  burdens  heaped  upon  them  by 
Intendant  Bigot,  the  chief  of  thieves  and  robbers. 
Woe  to  France  as  long  as  she  has  such  minions 
feeding  upon  her  colonies." 

The  Dark  Abbe  crossed  himself  piously,  while  he 
uttered  a  groan  of  despair,  saying,  in  a  sharp,  rasping 
voice : 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  hear  such  speech  from 
Basil  le  Noir.  The  best  of  us  cannot  serve  two 
masters,  sir ;  you  must  choose  between  France  and 
England.  In  other  words,  you  are  either  a  neutral, 
bound  hand  and  foot  to  the  British,  or  a  Gunbearer, 
who  dares  to  say  '  I  will  be  a  freeman.' " 

"  Why  need  a  peaceful  people  meddle,  sir .'  Can- 
not the  Acadiens  till  their  fields  and  tend  their  flocks 
in  peace  .'    There  was  no  talk  of  war  —  " 


w 


:^ 


Mi 


■  smii 


''•i? 


?iM^m 


48 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  Peware  of  treasonable  utterances,"  broke  in  the 
priest. 

"  Until  France  made  it,"  completed  Basil,  with  a 
rising  inflection.  "  If  that  sounds  of  treason  it  is  the 
truth." 

"  I  never  dreamed,"  said  the  abb6,  trying  hard  to 
conceal  the  anger  which  threatened  to  break  forth  at 
any  moment,  "  that  Basil  le  Noir  would  need  to  be 
given  a  lesson  along  with  the  fools  of  Grand  Pr^." 

"  Say  not  that  which  will  anger  me.  Father  le 
Petite,"  replied  Basil,  who  was  measuring  his  ground 
carefully,  and  calculating  just  how  far  it  would  do 
for  him  to  go.  "  I  ha\'e  not  expressed  any  love  for 
the  British,  whom  I  hv.c  and  detest  for  the  wrong 
they  have  done  mf;  and  my  family.  If  I  have  grown 
lukewarm  for  my  motherland,  it  is  because  she  has 
been  unfaithful  to  her  children.  France  would  make 
a  catspaw  of  us  to  pull  her  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire." 

"  Rash  words,"  replied  Le  Petite.  "  Let  me  whis- 
per you  that  which  will  show  you  the  folly  of  your 
speech.  The  noble  Bigot  and  his  associates  have 
already  a  plan  on  foot  by  which  they  expect  to  anni- 
hilate every  Englishman  in  New  England.  To  aid 
in  this  glorious  work,  at  this  moment  there  is  a  fleet 
of  French  ships  coming  to  this  shore.  Ay,  soon  all 
this  country  will  be  New  France,  from  the  Banks  of 
Newfoundland   to  the  Great   River  of   the  West.' 

'  The  Mississippi. 


THE  SON  OF  A  SPY. 


49 


Then  you  will  learn  that  a  true  Frenchman  never 
forgets !  But  who  am  I,  but  a  humble  instrument 
of  a  higher  power  ?  Perhaps  I  am  overjealous,  but 
it  is  my  dream  '.hat  Ac.Tdie  shall  yet  be  restored  to 
France,  to  shine  as  the  fairest  jewel  in  her  crown. 
You  and  I,  Basil  le  Noir,  can  be  the  leaders  in 
that  grand  undertaking,  and  reap  the  golden  fruit  that 
comes  with  success.  To-night  your  sincerity  shall  be 
tested.  I  will  know  ere  midnight  if  you  be  true  or 
false  to  France." 

The  gun  maker  simply  bowed  to  this  direct  speech, 

and  Le  Petite  was  unable  to  read  his  thoughts.  While 

given  to  speaking  in  riddles  himself,  nothing  provoked 
him  more  than  to  have  others  put  on  a  mask.  Finally, 
Le  Noir  said  : 

"  There  are  no  truer  hearts  in  all  Acadie  than  those 

which  burn  at  the  Canard  with  hatred  for  the  British." 
"  Spoken  like  a  true  son  of  Basque,"  declared  the 

abb6,  quickly,  the  frown  instantly  driven  from   his 

dark  features.     "  Can  you  say  as  much  for  the  men 

of  Grand  Pr6  }  " 

"  Gossipers  say  that  such  men  as  Le  Fontaine  are 

growing  fat  and  lazy  on  the  easy-going  Englishmen. 

And  you  know  a  well-filled  stomach  makes  a  servant 

good-natured  toward  his  master." 

"Well   said,   good    Basil.     Hast  heard  of   others 

whose  stomachs  have  been  petted  rather  than  their 

minds  ? " 


'Si- 


1# 

■"i 


IK  '  » 


''«« 


50 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER, 


"  Fewer  visit  me  than  formerly.  It  may  be  they 
do  not  like  my  company,  or  my  wares  may  be  less  to 
their  liking." 

"The  fools !  "  hissed,  rather  than  spoke,  the  priest. 
"  They  cannot  be  given  a  lesson  too  soon.  The  time 
has  come  to  strike  the  first  blow.  Let  Main-ii-Dieu 
be  the  object.     Do  you  understand  }  " 

"When  ? "  asked  Le  Noir,  by  way  of  reply. 

"Four  days,  or  rather  nights,  hence." 

"  It  will  require  all  of  that  time  to  reach  the  place, 
even  by  water." 

"  Then  there  is  more  need  of  a  prompt  start.  The 
faithful  of  Chebucto '  are  on  hand,  and  impatient  to 
be  on  the  way.  I  shall  hold  you  accountable  that 
twelve  faithful  men  from  Grand  Pr^  are  at  the  Isth- 
mus at  midnight.  They  had  better  be  disguised  in 
the  paint  and  leather  leggings  of  their  allies,  who  will 
not  fail  them.  A  failure  on  your  part  or  theirs 
means  —  " 

If  the  Dark  Ahh6  left  his  sentence  unfinished,  it 
was  to  make  its  impression  felt  the  more  keenly  by 
the  other.  Basil  le  Noir  knew  the  thought  completed 
would  say  : 

"  T/t£  desolation  of  your  own  and  companions' 
homes  !  " 

'  A  rendezvous  of  the  Micmac  Indians  at  that  time.  Five  years 
later  a  party  of  Engiis'n  colonists  took  possession  of  the  place,  and 
changed  the  name  of  the  town  to  Halifax. 


xWSm'd 


o. 


m 


years 
and 


THE  SON  OF  A   SPY. 


5' 


His  errand  pcrformod,  the  Dark  Abbd  was  about 
to  leave  the  smithy,  when  he  discovered  Alex,  who 
had  remained  a  listener  to  the  foregoing  dialogue 
until  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  escape  without  being 
seen.  Basil  le  Noir  saw  his  apprentice  at  the  same 
time  as  Le  Petite,  and  his  breath  came  quick  and 
furious,  as  he  demanded  : 

"  How  long  have  you  been  there,  Alex  ? " 

Realising  the  meaning  which  might  be  put  to  his 
answer,  Alex  replied,  guardedly  : 

"  A  brief  while,  good  Basil.  I  forgot  the  hammer 
and  I  had  to  come  back." 

"  And  listened  to  what  has  been  said,"  exclaimed 
the  Dark  Abb^,  "  that  which  none  but  a  true  son  of 
France  should  hear.  Canst  vouch  for  him,  Basil  le 
Nou- .? " 

"  I  have  seen  nothing  amiss  in  the  yc  h  since  he 
came  six  months  ago  to  learn  something  of  my  craft." 

"  Out  upon  you  for  such  a  foolish  speech.  It  does 
not  answer  my  question.  Do  you  vouch  for  him  in 
this  extremity,  Basil  le  Noir  }  " 

"  I  vouch  for  no  one,  sir." 

"Wisely  said,  sir  gunmaker.  He  is  not  of  the 
blood  of  Acadie  ?  " 

"  He  is  of  Irish  or  Scotch  heritage,  I  believe.  I 
never  took  the  trouble  to  find  out.  His  home  is  in 
Grand  Pr6." 

"The  Scotch  are  no  better  than  the  English.     I 


i*i^-^ 


% 


I 


i 


m 


''■u'i 


m 


il 

ii 


sa 


77/A     YOUNG   GUNB RARER. 


am  amazed  at  you,  Hasil  le  Noir  1 "  Turning  to  the 
trembling  boy,  he  demanded  ; 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  I  do  not  remember  seeing 
you  before,  and  I  intend  to  keep  well  acquainted  with 
the  good  people  of  Grand  I'r<5." 

"  Alexander  Briant,  sir.     My  father  —  " 

"  Is  Wallace  Briant !  "  exclaimed  the  Dark  Abb(5, 
his  dark  countenance  suddenly  becoming  as  black  as 
the  sooted  roof  overhead,  "the  traitor  —  the  spy! 
If  he  is  living  at  this  moment  his  scalp  is  worth  a 
good  fifty  pounds  at  Chebucto." 

"  My  father  —  " 

"  Stop ! "  fairly  roared  the  priest,  his  face  now 
crimson  with  rage.  "An  eavesdropper  is  no  better 
than  a  spy,  and  a  spy  is  always  an  eavesdropper.  Is 
it  possible,  Le  Noir,  you  do  not  know  the  judgment 
set  against  him  in  Quebec  ?  A  coat  of  tar  and  feath- 
ers and  a  roast  at  the  stake  awaits  him  as  soon  as  he 
can  be  caught,  and  that  time  is  not  far  off.  At  Port 
Royal  I  learned  the  Micmacs  were  on  his  track. 
Not  a  month  ago  the  audacious  fool  dared  to  enter 
one  of  the  good  Intendant's  banquets,  and  there 
learned  many  secrets  dangerous  to  the  welfare  of 
Bigot,  should  they  get  to  the  British.  Now  this  son 
of  a  spy  has  possessed  himself  of  secrets  which  make 
him  our  deadly  enemy  !  " 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  blame  me,  good  father. 
Truly  —  " 


■-SJK 


,.:J>MKLiT' 


J3. 


TJf/i  SON  OF  A  spy. 


53 


t' 


"  He  was  under  your  roof,"  rctoitccl  the  ahh6, 
quick  to  improve  the  opportunity  to  show  his  power 
over  the  gunmaker.  "  I  shall  look  to  you  to  see  thai 
he  is  cared  for  !  " 

The  words  conveyed  less  than  the  look  Lc  Petite 
gave  Le  Noir,  and  the  latter  shrank  back,  as  he  said  : 

"  Not  that,  good  father !  He  is  so  young.  Let 
him  swear  he  will  never  tell  what  he  has  heard,  if  he 
has  hoard  aught  that  is  dangerous.  You  will  do  that, 
Alex  > " 

"  I  pledged  myself  to  Father  F"afard  only  last  Sab- 
bath to  be  a  true  son  of  Acadie,"  replied  Alex.  "  I 
am  very  sorry  for  what  I  could  not  avoid." 

"  A  fig  for  that.  If  you  are  a  true  son  of  Acadie, 
you  will  answer  me  a  question  —  only  one.  You 
shall  go  free  if  you  will  do  that,  and  promise  never 
to  repeat  what  you  may  have  overheard  here.  Will 
you  do  it,  boy  >" 

"  If  it  be  such  a  question  as  I  can  answer,  sir." 

>'  You  can,  and  shall"  with  a  strong  accent  on  the 
last  word,  which  did  not  escape  Alex.  "  Where  is 
your  father .' " 

The  abruptness  of  the  question  gave  Alex  a  tremor 
of  fear,  but  with  this  came  the  thought  that  his  father 
had  .lot  been  discovered,  and  it  gave  him  courage  to 
reply  with  a  firmness  which  surprised  himself  : 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  sir.  He  is  away  from  home, 
and  has  been  for  some  months." 


I    I 


'^ 


'1 

ill 


w 


m 


54 


THE    YOUXG    GUXBEAREK. 


"  I  have  reason  for  knowing  that.  Will  you  tell 
where  he  is  ?  " 

Al'3x  deemed  it  most  prudent  for  him  to  remain 
silent,  wiiile,  for  the  first  time,  he  calculated  his 
chances  of  escape  by  flight.  He  realised  that  his 
situation  was  becoming  desperate.  The  Dark  Abbe 
vas  known  to  him  by  rei)utation  ?s  a  man  who  held 
great  power,  whether  for  good  or  ill,  over  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Grand  Pre.  Basil  le  Noir,  while  considered 
an  odd,  peculiar  man,  had  always  been  very  friendly 
toward  him,  and  he  believed  he  could  rely  on  his 
friendship  in  this  extremity.  So  he  decided  to  meet 
the  worst  with  a  brave  front,  determined  not  to  be- 
tray his  father. 

"  You  can  tell,  and  you  shall  be  made  to,  if  you  do 
not  feel  like  doing  it  voluntarily,"  declared  Le  Petite. 
"  Basil,  I  call  upon  you  to  lend  your  assistance. 
Bring  the  fellow  over  to  this  cleared  spot,  and  under 
that  beam." 

The  gunmaker  hesitated  but  a  moment.  A  flash 
of  the  bead-like  eyes  and  a  scowl  on  the  dark 
features  warned  him  that  his  safety  demanded 
obedience.  Seizing  Alex  .stoutly  by  the  shoulder, 
he  dragged  him  to  the  spot  pointed  out  by  the 
Dark    Abbe. 

While  he  was  doing  this  the  abbti  picked  up  two 
small  chains,  each  about  ten  feet  in  length.  He  then 
fastened  them  to  Alex's  thumbs,  and  tossed  the  ends 


KU^i::'  J^-fS^^i-^rfiin^f:!! 


.,:.^=-.    .:mi..SS^.i-,^M:„^£^. 


V'" .:"  ;;■■' .  ^f-^  ^  -   ■  ■ '-!i''|;<i  ^' ■ 


r^ 


ALEX    .    .    .    V  AS     LIFTED     UPWARD     UNTIL     ONLY     HLS    TOES 
TOUCHED    THE   FLOOR." 


.,    4)^ 


iiiiiiiii.ii^i»iii»iDM^rMiiiiallliiTiTi< 


■«»«»- 


--::-£:;    .-■'?«^ 


THE  SON  OF  A  SPY. 


55 


over  ..he  beam,  which  he  could  easily  reach  with  his 
hand. 

"  Take  hold  of  these,  Basil,  and  with  your  strong 
arm  raise  him  up.  We  will  soon  fetch  the  truth 
from  the  obstinate  puppy." 

The  horrible  intentions  of  the  Dark  Abb^  were 
now  evident,  even  to  the  frightened  boy,  who  began 
to  beg  for  mercy. 

"Tell  us  the  truth  about  your  father,"  was  the 
grim  reply.  "  A  word  will  save  you  all  torture, 
and  us  further  trouble.     Will  you  do  it.'" 

"  Father  is  not  at  home.     More  I  cannot  —  " 

"A  likely  story,"  sneered  the  priest.  "But  we 
will  get  the  truth  from  you.  Pull  on  the  chains,  friend 
Basil ;  pull  until  I  tell  you  to  stop." 

Then  the  gunmaker  plied  his  great  strength  to  the 
chains,  which  slipped  slowly  over  the  beam,  while  Alex, 
struggling  to  free  himself,  was  lifted  upward  until 
only  his  toes  touched  the  floor. 


n 


,  rs 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RESCUE   OF    ALEX. 

It  will  not  be  supposed  that  the  Woodranger  or 
Robert  Rogers  had  lost  any  part  of  the  preceding 
scene.  Every  word  of  the  Dark  Abbd  had  been 
listened  to  with  intense  interest,  while  the  sharp 
thrusts  and  parries  of  Basil  le  Noir  had  brought  a 
look  of  disgust  to  the  countenance  of  the  forester,  as 
he  saw  through  the  thin  artifice  of  the  gunmaker  to 
assume  a  defiance  of  the  priest  which  he  was  far  from 
feeling.  Then  the  seizure  of  Alex  aroused  the 
watchers  to  deeper  emctions  at  the  treatment  accorded 
the  helpless  boy.  Rob  found  it  difficult  to  remain 
inactive  as  the  preparations  for  the  torture  were 
made. 

In  his  zeal  to  find  a  suitable  place  for  carrying  out 
his  inhuman  purpose,  the  Dark  Abb^  had  selected  a 
spot  in  that  part  of  the  smithy  near  the  window  out- 
side of  which  the  watchers  were  concealed.  That 
they  might  not  be  discovered,  both  drew  back  slightly, 
but  they  were  able  to  view  the  whole  proceeding. 
Noticing  the  suppressed  excitement  of  his  youthful 

56 


RESCUE  OF  ALEX. 

and  fiery  companion,  the  Woodranger  whispered  in 
Rob's  ear : 

"It's  a  sorry  amazement,  lad,  but  ne'er  let  thy 
heart  run  off  with  thy  head.  Sich  races  are  short, 
lad.  I  dare  say  the  varmint  wil]  ne'er  kill  the  lad 
outright,  though  I  claim  no  very  good  reason  ior  say- 
ing so,  seeing  I  have  sich  poor  opinion  o'  the  iRetur'. 
How  dost  think  wo  had  better  meddle  in  the  matter .?  " 

"A  shot  apiece  will  fix  both,"  replied  the  impetu- 
ous Rob. 

"Nay,  that'll  ne'er  do.  It  would  be  a  wanton 
waste  o'  a  good  opportunity.  Hark,  lad!  didst 
hear  that  cry  } " 

"The  cry  of  the  tree-toad  —  the  spring  cry,  too, 
and  this  late  in  the  season,"  answered  Rob,  in  the 
same  cautious  whisper. 

"  You  need  no  code  to  show  you  the  sign,  lad.  Be 
that  the  cry  o'  a  toad  three  months  belated,  it  came 
from  the  throat  o'  a  red.  There's  an  answer  off  to  the 
right.  I  would  stake  my  reputation  as  a  prophet 
that  the  woods  are  abounding  with  reds." 

"  In  that  case  we  cannot  act  too  quickly." 

"  Nor  with  a  wanton  waste  o'  caution,  lad.  You 
are  uncommon  nervous  to-night." 

"  I  know  it,  Woodranger.  The  sight  of  that  black 
wretch  has  set  fire  to  my  heart.  See !  they  will  kill 
the  boy  by  inches." 

"  It  is  ne'er  sich  a  sight  as  one  would  look  for  on 


I 


■^ 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


neutral  ground.     The  lad  is  put  to  sore  straits, 
cannot  act  too  cautiously,  lad,  too  cautiously ! 

This  was  spoken,  or  rather  wiiispored,  at  the  time 
when  Alex,  his  whole  weight  resting  on  his  toes  and 
thumbs,  gave  expression  to  sharp  cries  of  pain,  in 
spite  <^his  attempt  to  meet  his  fate  with  resignation. 
A  sligm  sound  from  behind  the  forge  at  that  moment 
reached  his  ears,  and  he  thought  that  his  father  was 
unable  to  remain  a  silent  listener  to  the  cruel  treat- 
ment any  longer. 

"  Stop  —  father  —  let  me  think  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
hoping  his  words  would  quiet  his  father,  and  check 
the  torture  of  his  enemies.  But  the  abb6  showed 
no  signs  of  relenting,  as  he  commanded  : 

"  Up  with  him,  Basil,  higher  !  Nothing  unlocks  a 
fool's  tongue  like  pain." 

The  Woodranger  could  bear  no  more.  The  re- 
straining hand  which  he  had  laid  on  his  companion 
tightened,  while  he  whispered  : 

"  Lay  low,  Rob,  while  I  perambulate  round  to  the 
other  side.  When  I  get  their  attention,  pull  the  boy 
out  through  the  window  here.  Then  look  out  for 
yourselves.  I'll  meet  you  somewhere  'tween  here 
and  the  town." 

As  he  finished  his  hurried  explanation,  the  Wood- 
ranger  began  to  move  noiselessly  away.  In  his 
present  state  of  feeling  Rob  would  have  preferred  to 
assume  this  more  dangerous  part  of  the  adventure, 


s 


RESCUE   OF  ALEX. 


59 


but  he  was  too  good  a  soldier  to  question  orders. 
N  jt  did  he  allow  his  gaze  to  leave  the  scene  in  front, 
while  he  watched  and  waited. 

Making  no  sound  in  his  retreat,  Rob  had  no  way 
of  knowing  the  Woodranger's  progress  e.\cept  by  the 
passage  of  time.  The  Dark  Abb6  had  again  ques- 
tioned his  victim,  and  received  the  same  reply  as  he 
had  before.  Having  sympathy  for  the  young  sufferer, 
the  gunmaker  had  allowed  the  chains  to  slacken  until 
Alex  for  a  moment  stood  squarely  on  his  feet.  This 
aroused  the  anger  of  Le  Petite,  who  exclaimed  : 

••  Look  to  yourself,  Basil  le  Noir,  or  you  shall  take 
the  fool's  place.  Up  —  up  with  him,  till  I  command 
you  to  stop,  or  he  lets  the  truth  out  of  his  foul 
mouth." 

By  this  time  the  Woodranger  had  made  a  .semi-cir- 
cuit of  the  smithy,  and  appeared  in  front  of  the  dingy 
structure.  Though  intent  on  watching  Alex  Briant, 
Rob  saw  the  fore-^.te  before  either  of  the  men  in  the 
shop.  Basil  le  Noir  was  again  pulling  at  the  chains, 
when  he  suddenly  caught  sight  of  the  woodsman 
coming  swiftly  and  silently  toward  the  forge.  With 
a  low  exclamation,  the  gunmaker  let  go  upon  the 
chains,  and  seized  the  priest  excitedly  by  the  shoulder. 

Released  thus  suddenly,  Alex  Briant  dropped  to 
the  floor,  the  chains  falling  off  from  his  thumbs,  so 
that  he  was  free  and  upon  his  feet  in  a  moment. 

"  111  fares  the  hand  that  slays  a  human  being  from 


\  'CM 


j . 


60 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


sheer  wantonness,"  said  the  Woodranger,  in  a  deep, 
impressive  voice,  as  he  paused  on  the  threshold.  *•  I 
can  ne'er  dissemble,  but  to  me  sich  work  as  this  takes 
on  the  spirit  we  might  naturally  look  for  in  the  red 
man,  but  ne'er  expect  in  the  breast  o"  the  white." 

The  Woodranger  had  stopped  in  such  a  position 
that  he  stood  with  his  left  side  toward  the  startled 
couple,  and  his  gaze  so  fixed  that  he  could  command 
a  view  both  inside  and  outside  the  smithy.  The  long 
firearm  he  carried  had  been  drooped  into  the  hollow 
of  his  left  arm,  while  his  right  hand  rested  on  its 
stock  close  to  the  hammer,  which  was  raised.  Both 
men  saw  that  the  weapon  was  cocked,  and  the  Dark 
Abb6  shivered,  as  he  looked  into  the  ominous  muzzle 
which  stared  him  in  the  eye. 

•'  Who  are  you  ? "  den'^nded  the  priest,  as  soon  as 
he  could  find  his  speech. 

"  A  peaceful  perambulator  o'  the  forests ;  one  who 
claims  no  great  knack  at  unravelling  the  skein  o' 
man's  jedgment,  'less  the  threads  be  reeled  from  the 
big  spool  o'  common  sense.  I  'low  there  be  much  to 
warp  man's  jedgment  in  the  ways  he  has  made,  but 
there  be  no  cross  trails  in  the  plan  o'  the  Infinite 
One.  Being  a  man  following  in  God's  path,  if  not 
after  God's  own  —  " 

"  What  babbling  fool  is  this } "  cried  the  puzzled 
priest,  making  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  anger  at  this 
inopportune  appearance  of  the  forester. 


»^^.Jtit^v 


RESCUE  OF  ALEX. 


6l 


"  He  is  a  stranger  in  Acadie,"  said  Le  Noir,  "  be 
he  fool  or  madman.  Look  out,  Father  le  Petite,  I 
don't  like  the  way  he  handles  that  firearm.  He's 
either  criminally  careless,  or  intent  on  mischief." 

"Turn  that  weapon  aside,"  commanded  the  Dark 
AbbcS  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice  which  the  Wood- 
ranger  did  not  fail  to  notice,  and  his  bearded  lips 
parted  with  a  grim  smile,  as  he  replied  : 

"  This  weapon  o'  mine  is  ne'er  a  wanton  slayer,  and 
I  do  not  disremember  that  we  are  on  neutral  ground. 
Mebbe  you  do  }  " 

The  Dark  Abb^  and  his  companion  looked  one 
upon  the  other,  wondering  what  sort  of  a  person 
they  had  to  deal  with.  They  did  not  believe  the 
Woodranger  was  to  be  feared  if  he  could  be  made  to 
put  aside  that  threatening  firearm.  Naturally  both 
had  forgotten  for  the  time  being  their  captive. 
Finally,  the  abb^  plucked  up  courage  to  say: 

"Prithee,  man,  how  dare  you  declare  yourself  to 
be  on  neutral  ground  while  you  offer  such  hostility  > 
I  remember  it,  and,  in  the  name  of  peace,  once  more 
ask  you  put  aside  that  gun.  It  might  explode  with- 
out such  intention  on  your  part." 

The  Woodranger  laughed  in  his  peculiar  way,  and 
replied,  in  that  deliberate  tone  of  his  : 

"  That  weepon  I'arned  the  ways  o'  thy  brethren  in 
dark  cloth  long  ere  it  came  to  be  mine.  Could  this 
slayer  o'  beasts  and  men,  both  red  and  white,  find  a 


W 


m 


62 


THE    YOUNG    GUNHKARER. 


I 


tongue,  not  of  fire,  it  would  tell  you  how  it  defended 
Norridgewock  in  the  hands  o'  Father  Kalle  at  his 
last  stand.  I  was  there,  who  ask  no  credit  for  it, 
and  saw  the  truth." 

The  words  were  not  without  the  desired  effect, 
for  both  instantly  .showed  a  deep  interest  in  what  he 
was  saying. 

"It  hits  .some  of  the  points  of  a  French  gun,"  said 
Lc  Noir,  with  a  critical  look.  "  That  is  a  Richelieu 
stock,  though  I  am  not  so  sure  of  tne  barrel.  I  fain 
would  examine  the  weapon,"  he  added,  addressing  the 
Woodranger,  "  Being  a  maker  of  such  implements, 
I  take  an  interest  in  them  beyond  that  of  a  common 
man." 

The  forester  smiled,  but  shook  his  head. 

"  So  you  were  with  the  unfortunate  Father  Ralle  >." 
asked  the  Hlack  Abb^,  who  was  following  this  dia- 
logue, hoping  to  gain  some  advantage  by  it. 

"  I  will  not  prcvicate  the  truth,  man.  It  was  for 
me,  whether  it  was  for  good  or  ill,  to  see  the  father 
fall.  Mebbe  I  was  nearest,  and  now  my  attention 
has  been  called  to  it,  I  am  quite  sure  sich  was  the 
case,  when  he  went  down  like  a  man  o'  war  rather 
than  one  o'  peace.     Yes,  I  fit  with  Ralle." 

Coming  at  once  to  a  conclusion  far  from  the  truth, 
the  priest  said,  fervently  : 

"Let  me  clasp  thy  hand,  faithful  son.  I  would 
walk  to  Quebec  for  the  privilege." 


*m*,M^'t:'i.^^itmm^^  -i&S^^S^fi-irx 


•S" 


KtSCUE   OF  ALEX. 


63 


"  I  have  no  desire  to  dissemble,  sir,  but,  .md  mind 
you  i  say  it  in  good  faith,  if  you  were  to  look  behind 
you,  you  might  see  that  which,  without  walking  a 
step,  would  sui prise  and  amaze  you." 

Acting  upon  the  suggestion,  both  men  turned 
(juickly  about,  when  they  discovered  that  Alex 
Briant  was  missing. 

"Gone!  he  has  got  away!"  exclaimed  the  priest. 
"Quick,  Basil,  stranger —  '  but  when  he  looked 
back  to  address  the  Woodranger,  he  found  that  he, 
too,  had  disappeared  I 


"'-4. 


k'     tt 


IH    :: 


CHAPTKR   VII. 

"KNACK      LiAINST    CUNNING." 

Tmk  Dark  Abbe  had  good  reason  tor  uttering  his 
exclamation  of  surprise,  for  so  silently  and  swiftly 
had  the  VVoodranger  disappeared  that  neither  the 
priest  nor  his  companion  could  tell  whither  he  had 
gone.  Like  his  race,  the  latter  was  superstitious, 
and  he  was  quick  to  ascribe  the  assistance  of  evil 
powers  to  have  enabled  the  strange  man  to  get  away 
so  easily,  and  he  said  : 

"  The  good  saints  protect  us  from  the  power  of  —  " 
"  Out  upon  you  for  a  fool !  "  cried  Le  Petite.  "  He 
cannot  yet  be  far  away.  He  must  be  overtaken,  and 
the  boy,  too.  It  will  not  do  for  either  to  get  off. 
Do  you  find  the  boy  and  bring  him  to  me,  or  your 
life  will  not  be  worth  a  forfeit.  I  will  look  after 
the  babbling  woodsman.  Stir  your  clumsy  leg.s, 
man,  or  you  will  rue  this  night's  work." 

By  this  time  Basil  le  Noir  had  noticed  the  dis- 
turbed appearance  of  the  foliage  about  the  window, 
and  he  concluded  that  Alex  had  escaped  by  that 
place.     Thinking  to  cut  off  the   youth's   flight  by 

64 


IT^tWW^f  111.11"   "J"  I'll.   "I  ■■»  j 


.;MaKS;ast«v. 


"KNACK    GAINST  CUNNING." 


65 


going  around  the  end  of  the  smithy,  he  started  as 
fast  as  his  stout  legs  could  well  carry  him  out  at 
the  door.  Even  in  his  alarm  he  did  not  neglect  to 
close  the  heavy  door,  the  abW  having  already  rushed 
out  into  the  open  air. 

Leaving  the  precious  couple  to  follow,  each  his 

own  way,  in  their  search  for  the  fugitives,  our  inter- 

est  naturally  takes  us  to  the  fugitives  themselves. 

It  will  be  easily  understood  that  it  had  been  a  part 

of  the  Woodranger's  object  in  calling  the  attention 

of  the  priest  and  the  gunmaker  to  the  escape  of  Alex, 

that  he  might  find  time  to  get  away  himself.     He 

believed,  and  with  good  reason,  that  the  Dark  Abb^ 

had  Indian  allies  within  calling,  and  that  he  would 

summon    them   to   his   assistance    the   moment   his 

suspicions    should    be    aroused.       Thus    he    darted 

rapidly  around  the  corner  of  the   shop,  and  when 

his  enemies  were  looking  vvith  amazement  upon  the 

empty  space  he  had  filleO  a  .noment  before,  he  was 

threading  the  forest  several  rods  away. 

Knowing  that  Rob  would  lose  no  time  in  getting 
away  from  the  smithy,  and  that  he  would  keep  under 
cover  of  the  growth,  the  forester  anticipated  the 
other's  course  so  well  that  he  was  not  long  in  over- 
taking his  youthful  companion  and  Alex.  At  that 
moment  a  low,  but  distinct,  whistle,  sounding  very 
much  like  the  call  of  the  brooding  grouse,  reached 
the  ears  of  the  three. 


'^.^ 


m4^^ 


s0^S^^'^"" 


66 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Bi    :f 


«■! 


"  The  ol'  he-wolf  is  signalling  his  herd,"  declared 
the  Woodranger,  in  a  cautious  tone.  "They  will 
gather  below  here.  I  see  you  have  the  lac'  with  you, 
Rob.  We'll  keep  on  in  the  way  you  were  moving. 
Hast  I'arned  where  the  lad  lives  .'  " 

"My  home  is  near  the  lower  orchards,  not  far 
fro-n  the  basin,"  replied  Alex.  "But,  kind  sirs,  I 
know  not  what  to  do.  Mother  will  be  worried  abont 
me.  But  in  Basil's  smithy  lies  father  concealed 
behind  the  forge.  I  must  not  desert  him,  for  he  is 
wounded  sore,  and  if  either  Le  Noir  or  the  priest 
should  find  him,  I  am  sure  they  would  put  him  to 
death." 

Robert  Rogers  allowed  his  surprise  to  be  shown 
in  his  looks,  but  the  Woodranger  spoke  in  his  usual 
matter-of-fact  tone,  as  he  said  : 

"  A  truth  'yond  prevication,  lad.  How  long  has 
thy  father  been  in  ambushment  in  the  shop  o'  his 
inemy  .•• " 

"Since  sunset,  sir.  Oh,  you  seem  like  an 
honest  —  " 

"Tut —  tut,  lad.  Spare  thy  time  and  breath. 
I  hear  the  red  wolves  replying  to  their  leade..  We 
must  be  moving,  but  while  we  move  we  can  busy 
our  minds  with  some  plan  out  of  this  amazement." 
He  led  the  way  along  the  edge  of  the  woods  toward 
the  town  of  Grand  Pr<^,  Rob  and  Alex  keeping  close 
behind  him,  though  it  puzzled  the  latter  either  to 


'^'S^^     \^         M^VW^rtV- 


''KNACK  'GAINST  CUNNING." 


(>7 


an 


imitate  the  pace  or  the  noiseless  movements  of  his 
companions. 

"  It  requires  no  great  adeptness  o'  jedgment,  arte, 
what  has  been  said  and  heard,"  resumed  the  Wood- 
ranger,  "  for  me  to  say  that  the  inemy  are  not  going 
to  give  your  family  any  perticular  rest  till  they  have 
captured  you,  and,  it  '.iiay  be,  have  glutted  their 
thirst  for  revenge,  which  I  am  prone  to  say  is  as  dry 
as  the  hot  sands  in  summer." 

"  You  will  help  us,  sir  }  "  said  Alex,  anxiously. 

"I  ne'er  wish  to  previcate,  lad,  but  my  young 
friend  here  and  I  have  come  to  the  neutral  ground 
on  business,  and  not  to  stir  an  amazement  that 
would  be  like  raking  over  a  hornet's  nest  on  a  hot 
day.  Mebbe  you  can  tell  us  where  habitates  one 
Benedict  le  Fontaine .'  " 

"  His  farm  is  just  off  the  main  street  on  our  left, 
as  we  go  to  my  home.  It  will  be  in  sight,  sir,  and 
y",u  cannot  miss  it  for  the  big  maple.  Do  you  think 
they  will  find  father  at  the  smithy.?" 

"  Not  for  a  time,  lad,  not  for  a  time.  The  inemy 
will  naturally  leave  the  smithy  to  look  for  us." 

"  I  am  so  glad  father  is  safe,  if  for  only  a  short 
time.  Do  you  think  the  Micmacs  are  arming  against 
us.'  And  have  the  French  really  been  successful 
at  Port  Royal .? " 

"The  last  be  too  sure,  lad,  too  sure.  As  to  the 
other,  the  stick  seems  to  float  that  way.     But  my 


^M^i>^^:M'rii^^m 


u-v?!.?s^/i,lfer4t'istS'*'Wf*,  Mi;^  .  ^m^^ 


m 


68 


THE    /OUA'G   GUNBEARER. 


!■  ": 


'vice  is  for  you  to  keep  a  still  tongue.  The  brook 
that  runs  deep  does  not  gurgle.  It  is  the  tongue 
that  makes  the  trouble,  lad." 

"  You  arc  English,"  declared  the  other,  who  seemed 
determined  to  keep  up  the  conversation. 

"  Peaceful  perambulators  o'  the  great  woods,  lad, 
nothing  more.  I  wist  thy  father  has  a  more  discreet 
tongue  than  thine." 

This  served  to  quiet  Alex,  who  moveu  along  with 
his  companions  in  silence.  Judging  from  the  still- 
ness of  the  night  there  was  no  human  being  within 
a  long  distance.  Ai  a  point  where  the  road  entered 
the  forest  the  Woodrangcr  stopped. 

"  Where  does  this  dark-faced  maker  o'  weepons  o' 
war  live.'"  he  asked.  "  Mebbe  I  didst  know  once, 
but  the  memory  o'  it  has  slipped  from  my  mind." 

"  His  home  is  on  the  Canard,  some  distance  from 
here,  toward  Blow-me-down." 

"  Now  my  attention  has  been  called  to  it,  I  remem- 
ber the  spot,  a  little  corner  cut  from  the  sea  and 
the  beech  wood.  I  remember  the  aged  dame  who 
wore  her  faded  cap  and  spun  the  flax,  with  a  tongue 
as  busy  as  her  wheel,  and  with  far  less  o'  music  in 
its  shrill  tore.  What  think  you,  Rob,  o*  the  inemy  ? " 

"That  thev  will  look  for  the  boy  at  home,  and 
for  you  in  the  woods.  They  cannot  know  there  is  a 
third,  which  is  myself,"  replied  the  young  ranger  to 
the  abrupt  questio.i. 


■i^rnV''' 


''KNACK  'GAINST  CUNNING." 


69 


"  Which  is  a  credit  to  your  jedgment,  or  mine 
be  in  fault.  Presuming  that  sich  be  the  case,  and 
to  me  it  seems  no  arrant  presumption,  it  il'  becomes 
us  to  act  other  than  discreetly,  and  with  sich  prompt- 
ness as  is  consistent  with  good  jedgment.  From 
what  I  have  heerd,  lad,  I  conclude  it  will  not  be  safe 
for  your  father  to  remain  in  Grand  Pr6  longer  than 
he  can  get  somewhere  else.  The  Dark  Abbe  has 
reason,  too,  I  jedge,  to  look  for  you.  Have  you  no 
friend  where  you  and  your  mother  can  go  until  this 
disturbance  has  blown  over  .■'  " 

"I  think  of  none  better  than  Jean  Vallie  on  the 
Avon,  sir." 

"  Then  speed  thy  steps  to  Jean  Vallie's,  and  Rob 
shall  go  with  you  to  see  that  you  fall  into  no  ambush- 
ment.  I  will  go  back  and  see  what  fare  befalls  your 
father." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir.  I  know  you  will  do  the 
best  you  can  for  father." 

"  That  I  will,  lad,  and  you  may  say  to  your  mother 
from  me,  which  is  arrant  presumption,  seeing  I  am 
an  entire  stranger,  —  mind  you  I  say  this  not  as 
a  meddler,  —  that  she  ne'er  need  feel  undue  misap- 
prehension '^'iQx  v/hat  in  all  consistency  can  be  but  a 
passing  breeze," 

"  Who  may  I  tell  her  is  so  kind  } " 

"  It  does  not  matter,  it  does  not  matter.  Mebbe 
I've  committed  a  blameful  indiscretion  in  speaking 


:  fi 


!  -■#, 


I 


'■■>«i»iS»^f^"fesiaift'-- 


B^JSsiJ 


wssoi 


w 


70 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


out  as  I  did,  seeing  I've  said  that  which  in  all  consist- 
ency can  be  only  speculation  on  my  part.  I  jedge  the 
inemy  be  ranging  low,  and  close  at  hand,  'cording  to 
their  signal-cries.  They  tell  me,  too,  they  be  a  bit 
confused  in  their  drift.  You  had  better  be  moving, 
lads,  afore  the  dusky-skins  smell  your  tracks.  I 
I  need  not  tell  you  to  act  discreetly,  Rob ;  that  it  be 
knack  'gainst  cunning,  white  knack  'gainst  red  cun- 
ning. It  would  be  giving  you  just  cause  to  doubt 
my  faith  in  you." 

The  shrill  cry  of  a  catbird  at  that  moment  fell  on 
their  ears,  and  pressing  the  hand  of  his  older  com- 
panion in  reply  to  his  caution,  Rob  Rogers,  motioning 
to  Alex  to  follow  him,  led  the  way  noiselessly  in  the 
direction  of  the  village,  keeping  under  cover  as  much 
as  possible. 

"  Rob  will  not  be  caught  like  the  bee  that  o'erloads 
with  sweets  in  his  greediness.  Nay,  the  lad  is  not 
o'erconfident,  and  his  cunning  is  a  match  for  the 
reds.  How  childish  I  be  getting  to  be,  and  yet  it 
may  be  an  indiscretion  on  my  part  to  let  them  go 
alone.  An  ol'  man's  prudence,  arter  all,  is  pre/i^^able 
to  all  the  zeal  o'  youth." 

Having  watched  his  young  friends  out  of  sight,  the 
Woodranger  turned  about  and  plunged  into  the  woods, 
retracing  with  noisoless  steps  the  course  he  and  his 
companions  had  just  come. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


THE   ACADIAN    RANGER. 


The  path  of  the  Woodranger  was  really  less  envi- 
roned by  danger  than  might  have  been  considered  at 
first  thought.  Both  the  French  and  the  Indians  had 
left  the  vicinity  of  Le  Noir's  smithy,  expecting  the 
fugitives  would  leave  the  place  with  all  speed  possi- 
ble. Still  it  was  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
some  straggling  member  of  the  party  might  be  hang- 
ing behind  the  others.  Even  this  stimulus  was  not 
needed  to  make  the  forester  cautious,  as  he  advanced 
through  the  beech  growth,  where  only  at  rare  inter- 
vals the  moonlight  threw  its  bars  of  silver.  Caution 
with  him  was  a  part  of  his  nature,  and,  avoiding  the 
openings  in  the  forest,  he  flitted  like  a  shadow  toward 
the  lone  smithy,  until  for  the  second  time  he  stood 
near  the  hidden  window. 

The  fire  on  the  forge  was  now  burning'  low,  and 
not  a  sound  came  from  within  or  about  the  building, 
as  he  pushed  aside  the  vines,  to  get  a  \iew  of  the 
interior.  Le  Noir,  in  the  haste  of  his  departure,  had 
left  the  torch  burning,  but  its  light  was  nearly  spent, 

71 


*.*■'♦,  %  f 


,.Si^-.3S^^<t.^r;t^^i 


72 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Despite  this  unfavourable  lighting  of  the  scene,  the 
Woodranger  was  able  to  distinguish  the  figure  of  a 
man  lying  at  full  length  on  the  floor  in  the  shadow 
of  the  forge.  He  was  so  motionless  that  at  first  he 
thoiiirht  he  was  dead,  but  presently  a  low  groan,  like 
a  half-suppressed  moan  of  pain,  escaped  his  lips.  Feel- 
ing confident  of  his  identity,  the  forester  Lst  no  time 
in  addressing  him  by  name. 

The  wounded  fugitive  started  with  surprise,  and 
lifting  himself  upon  one  elbow,  asked,  as  he  tried  to 
discover  the  speaker : 

"  Who  are  you  } " 

"  I  do  not  previcate  the  truth  in  saying  that  I  am 
your  friend,  seeing  I've  left  your  boy  to  find  his  way 
home  without  me.  The  reds  are  perambulating  round 
considerable,  with  fingers  naturally  itching  for  scalp- 
locks.  I  jedge  you  are  not  well  equipped  to  move 
about." 

"  I  carry  an  ounce  of  French  lead  in  my  right  side, 
sir.  Still  I  am  stronger  than  I  was  when  I  reached 
this  shop  at  sunset.  I  crawled  out  from  my  hiding- 
place,  hoping  1  could  get  to  my  home.  But  it  is  all 
up  with  me,  and  you  can  do  me  no  greater  favour 
than  to  warn  my  wife  and  children  of  the  danger 
hanging  over  them.     Tell  them  —  " 

"  P'orgive  an  ol'  man  foi  his  weakness,  sir,  for 
conceit  is  but  a  form  o'  weakness,  but  I  believe  I  can 
do  you  a  better  turn  by  examining  your  hurt  than  by 


l^ 


ii-!J5iSi*i' :  ■   •■  -- 


THE  ACADIAN  RANGER. 


n 


listening  to  sich  talk,  which  in  all  consis'.ency  I 
couldn't  think  o'  following.  If  F"rench  lead  be  not 
as  bad  as  red  lead,  it  do  chaw  considerable,  I  'low ; 
and  yet  ihis  perticarler  chunk  may  have  been  more 
marcifui  than  you  conclude.  Anyway,  it'll  do  no 
harm  to  find  out,  and  though  I  claim  no  great 
adeptness  in  the  matter  o'  drcs.sing  sich,  I  think 
I  can  say,  without  boasting,  that  I'm  no  novice  at 
the  knack.  It  be  an  ugly  rent.  Let  me  move  you 
so  the  light  from  the  fire  will  fall  on  it.  I  would  add 
a  leetle  lightwood  to  the  blaze,  but  that  might  be  the 
means  o'  calling  the  red  imps  this  way.  Darkness  is 
not  the  worst  ill  that  can  befall  one  on  casions  like 
this." 

The  Woodranger  possessed  the  happy  faculty  of 
usoif  his  hands  whllo  he  talked,  and  by  this  time  he 
had  not  only  gently  removed  the  clothing  about  the 
wound,  but  carefully  wiped  away  the  clotted  blood 
with  some  of  the  lint  he  always  carried  with  him 
for  that  purpose. 

"It  is  an  ugly  spot,"  he  mused,  "and  the  bullet 
must  lay  purty  near  the  skin  on  the  back.  It 
'pears  to  have  struck  a  rib  and  sort  o'  slewed  down- 
ward." Turning  the  sufferer  over  on  his  stomach, 
without  checking  his  speech,  he  went  on :  "  Now's 
me,  it  does  lay  handy,  and  handier  still,  as  it  comes 
out  to  show  itself,"  holding  up  between  his  fore- 
finger and  thumb  the  bullet,  which  he  had  removed 


S^Br-¥#t*iS^^tesS*-=9Sw 


74 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


with  a  swiftness  and  dexterity  a  surgeon  might  have 
envied. 

The  Woodranger  then  staunched  the  flow  of  blood 
with  more  of  the  lint,  and  bound  the  wound  carefully 
with  strips  of  soft-tanned  doeskin.  It  v/as  less  than 
five  minutes  from  the  time  he  had  entered  the  smithy 
before  he  had  dressed  the  gunshot  and  replaced  the 
clothing. 

"  I  feel  better  already,"  declared  Briant,  thankfully. 
"I  shall  pick  up  strength  now  surely."  Then  he 
betrayed  something  of  the  caution  of  his  nature,  as 
he  asked  :  "  Who  are  you  who  have  done  me  this 
favour }  You  are  not  French,  as  I  can  tell  by  your 
speech.  You  are  a  man  of  the  woods.  You  come 
from  New  England  ?  " 

"Your  distcrnment  tells  me  that  you  are  one 
lettered  in  the  unwritten  ways  o'  woodcraft.  I 
thmk  I  commit  no  indiscretion  in  saying  that  you 
are  the  man  the  French  are  looking  for  as  the  reds 
seek  a  fat  deer  in  the  hunting  spnson" 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?     Vuii  iii  e  not  a  spy  \ " 

"If  knowing  that  uaiih  your  enemies  would  ne'ef 
care  to  have  me  know  makes  o'  me  a  spy,  then  I'm  a 
spy.  If  telling  'em  things  to  you  makes  me  a  friend, 
then  I'm  a  friend." 

"Forgive  me,  friend.  In  my  concern  over  the 
reverses  of  fortune  1  JuIiijibI  at  hasty  conclusions. 
Yes ;   I  £Ti  Wallace  Briant,  ihe  ranger,  the  outlaw, 


Ty      ('S-^  —^  t.^~„f\^^    .,^jjj^_ 


THE   ACADIAN  RANGER. 


n 


the  fugitive,  whom  the  French  are  hunting  as  they 
would  run  down  a  deer.  I  must  not  tarry  longer 
here.  Now  you  have  treated  me  so  well,  I  feel  that 
I  can  move  again." 

"Nay,  Friend  Briant,  if  you  will  take  the  advice 
o'  one  who  can  claim  no  great  jedgment  outside  the 
leetle  craft  he  has  picked  up  in  the  haunts  that  he 
loves  best,  you'll  tarry  a  bit.  Nay,  there  is  no  time 
gained  by  hurrying  a  tired  foot,  let  alone  a  wounded 
body.  A  few  minutes  of  rest  will  work  much  good. 
A  fi-iend  o'  mine  has  gone  to  your  home  with  your 
boy,  and  they  will  see  that  no  ill  befalls  the  lad's 
mother.  It  has  been  thought  best  that  a  flight  be 
taken  to  one  Jean  Vallie  on  the  Avon,  until  this  affair 
has  blown  over." 

"  The  very  plan  that  was  in  my  mind.  And  of  all 
the  men  I  know  Jean  will  be  the  most  likely  to 
succour  us.  He  does  not  accept  kindly  this  under- 
hand work  of  the  government  of  New  France  and 
the  priests.  But  who  are  you  who  has  taken  such  an 
intertbt  in  me  and  my  family  ?  I  do  not  remember 
that  I  ever  have  seen  you  before ;  and  yet  you  seem 
like  an  old  friend." 

"  I'm  called  '  The  Woodranger,'  which  name  may 
and  may  not  fit  me  well.  As  it  will  not  be  prudent 
for  you  to  try  to  reach  this  Jean  Vallie's  to-night  in 
your  condition,  can  you  think  o'  a  place  where  it  will 
be  safe  for  you  to  tarry  for  awhile .' " 


•  V 

I- 


:f\" 


n 


t^ 


t 


ft 


If   ■ 


76 


THE    YOUNG   CirNBEARER. 


"  I  have  no  truer  friend  in  Grand  Pr^  than  Benedict 
le  Fontaine.  His  home  wil'  be  on  the  most  direct 
course  to  the  Avon.  Let  us  go  to  Benedict's  with  all 
haste  possible      I  am  strong  enough  now  to  walk." 

The  Woodranger  shook  his  head,  but  did  not  offer 
further  opposition.  In  fact  he  knew  himself  they 
were  losing  valuable  time.  A>i  he  assisted  Briant  to 
his  feet,  he  was  wondering  if  it  was  faring  well  with 
Rob. 

Leaning  heavily  on  the  forester's  arm,  the  Acadian 
ranger  at  first  was  able  to  move  only  with  great 
difficulty  and  pain.  But  gradually  the  strength 
returned  to  his  limbs,  and  once  outside  of  the  smithy 
the  open  air  gave  him  new  vitality.  The  moon  had 
now  risen  so  that  its  mellow  beams  were  beginning 
to  filter  down  through  thj  d(  nse,  beechen  foliage, 
giving  to  the  scene  the  ghostly  light  so  peculiar  to 
forests  on  moonlight  nights. 

"  By  this  time  the  priest  and  his  followers  are  at 
the  lower  end  o'  the  town,"  whispered  the  Wood- 
ranger,  "  so  the  way  is  clearer  for  us.  Lean  on  me 
all  you  can.  You  will  need  such  assistance  as  I  can 
give  you  afore  you  reach  Benedict's,  or  I  miscalculate 
in  my  string  o'  knots." 

It  was  a  slow,  tedious  journey  down  the  silent 
beech  woods,  until  at  last  they  stood  under  a  clump 
of  apple-trees  in  sight  of  the  tall  white  chapel  which 
spoke  so  eloquently  of  the   -eace  of  Grand  Pr6.     Up 


■Ws-.Mm^Mm^^Ms^mmi&e^^^M''^ 


THE  ACADIAN  RANGER. 


77 


and  down  the  long  street,  as  far  as  they  could  sec,  not 
one  was  astii.  At  the  end  of  a  short  lane  running 
off  in  front  of  the  church,  under  a  row  of  ancient 
Lombardy  poplars,  stood  a  white  cottage,  the  home 
(»f  Father  Fafard. 

"  Would  that  all  were  as  faithful  to  Acadie  as  he," 
sa  1  Hriant,  rallying  slightly.  "Good  lienedict's 
cottage  is  at  the  end  of  this  lane.  I  feel  stronger  ; 
you  need  n.  t  fear  but  I  can  i  each  his  home.  I  am 
'he  more  troubled  over  what  is  taking  place  at  my 
home.  I  am  trusting  completely  in  you  in  following 
this  course." 

The  Woodranger  made  no  reply  to  this,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  they  paused  under  the  "Mary  maple," 
close  by  the  farmer's  cottage,  when  he  said  : 

"  If  you  will  rest  here  on  this  bench  ,(  ninute,  I 
will  perambulate  ahead,  and  see  if  there  be  no  cross 
paths  for  us  to  trail." 

There  were  no  bolts  to  the  doors  in  Acadia,  which 
spoke  wii'  for  the  honesty  of  the  people.  Neither 
was  it  the  custom  to  draw  the  curtains  alter  nightfall, 
so  the  Woodranger  was  favoured  with  an  unobstructed 
view  of  this  Acadian  farmer's  kitchen  and  dining- 
room,  as  he  paused  near  the  cottage  to  see  if  it  would 
be  safe  to  announce  himself  and  companion  at  the 
door.  His  first  glance  within  seemed  to  show  him 
that  he  had  been  wise  in  taking  this  cautious  survey 
of  the  situation. 


•'A 


.'v  >x 


i     i 


I 


#«?f5i?>;-;> 


1 

L.. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  {MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


86i  

t    I4g    ;!i|2j0 


12.2 


1.25 


!.4 


1.8 


1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


^^ 


5/         <*'   4=^  /h 


1..^ 


/ 


f/u 


^^^ 


<^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


,'"  '  '"?■  •'■"•'.•■' I ^'.mmfm.im^r-fif  •'^mxs^iuu-'^ 


% 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  nrjicroreproductions  historiques 


78 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


He  sav/  that  the  walls  of  the  room  were  smooth 
and  highly  polished,  the  glistening  wood  reflecting 
the  )ight  of  the  embcs  glowing  on  the  wide  hearth, 
a  fire  havmg  been  kindled  to  cook  the  evening  meal. 
Overhead,  the  dark  beams  and  sooted  rafters  seemed 
a  fitting  support  for  huge  clusters  of  herbs  and  long 
plaits  of  onions,  suspended  from  num»;rous  pegs. 
The  furnishings  of  the  apartment  were  simple  and 
plain,  everything  from  the  straight  high-backed  chairs, 
with  their  basket  bottoms,  to  the  dresser-shelves  bear- 
ing evidence  of  the  thrift  and  neatness  of  the  good 
housewife.  Upon  these  last  was  a  modest  display  of 
crockery,  arranged  so  as  to  show  their  intemimgling 
shades  of  blue,  brown,  and  yellow,  sprinkled  with  dif- 
ferent designs  of  vines  and  grotesque  images,  all  of 
which  stood  out  in  bold  relief  in  the  flickering  glow 
of  the  candles  set  at  either  end  of  the  shelf  over  the 
hearth. 

Near  the  centre  of  the  sanded  and  well-scrubbed 
floor  stood  the  dining-table,  and  for  that  matter  the 
table  for  general  use,  as  there  was  none  other  in  the 
room.  This  had  no  covering,  save  for  the  dishes  of 
food  now  placed  on  it,  and  it  shone  as  white  and  clear 
as  much  patient  rubbing  could  make  the  beech  wood. 
The  food  consisted  of  some  crescent-shaped  cakes, 
warm  from  the  frying-pot  and  snowy  with  a  sprinkling 
of  powdered  maple  sugar.  A  large  dish  held  a  shad 
done  to  a  nice  crispness  and  browned  by  the  frugal 


THE  ACADIAN  RANGER. 


79 


cook  just  as  her  master  liked  it  best,  and  another  con- 
tained a  hot  barley  loaf.  Beside  each  plate  was  a 
bowl  of  new  milk. 

Seated  ^t  this  table  were  four  persons,  two  men,  a 
woman,  and  a  girl  of  seven  or  eight.  It  would  be 
natural  to  suppose  that  three  of  these  people  were 
the  farmer,  his  good  wife  and  little  daughter,  Evange- 
line, whose  childlike  countenance  bore  the  beauty 
and  sweetness  of  youthful  innocence  and  purity. 
The  visitor,  if  a  neighbour  running  in  could  be  called 
such,  was  Jean  Hebcrt,  the  notary  public. 

That  the  evening  meal  had  been  delayed  by  his 
coming  was  evident  from  appearance,  but  it  was  really 
no  fault  of  his.  The  recent  news  from  Port  Royal 
had  afforded  them  a  theme  for  discussion  which  had 
completely  dulled  their  appetites  for  even  the  tempt- 
ing food  placed  before  them  by  the  faithful  house- 
wife, who  knew  far  '  ss  of  the  intrigues  of  plotting 
kings  and  their  tools  than  she  did  of  her  homely 
duties. 

"  For  my  part,  good  Benedict,  I  can't  see  why  any 
nevs  from  Port  Royal  should  cause  a  good  supper  to 
be  spoiled.     Have  the  British  broken  their  faith  .'  " 

"  Nay,  good  wife,"  he  replied,  speaking,  as  she  had 
done,  in  the  Normandy  dialect,  whi^:h  prevailed 
among  the  Acadians,  "you  misinterpret  the  news. 
The  French  have  gained  what  Father  le  Petite  con- 
siders a  great  victory  for  ihem.     A  wnole  regiment 


u    1 


;  ,  f 


m 


Mi' 


:2?fi'^ 


_ — »., 


80 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


at  the  capital,  and  you  know  the  British  are  not 
strong  there,  has  been  surprised  and  either  killed  or 
captured.  The  defence  must  fall  soon.  Port  Royal 
has  ev^r  been  a  bone  of  contention  between  the 
French  and  the  English,  you  know." 

"  I  do  not  know  why,"  she  said,  frankly.  "  I  do 
not  like  this  shedding  of  so  much  blood,  when  it 
seems  to  me  unnecessary.  Had  the  French  any  just 
cause  for  complaint,  Jean  Hebert  >  Being  a  learned 
man,  you  oughl  to  answer  my  question  plainly." 

'••  France  can  well  claim  that  she  has,"  replied  the 
notary-,  with  what  might  be  termed  a  cautious  speech, 
seeing  that  it  was  capable  of  different  significations. 
"Acadie  is  rightfully  a  child  of  France,  and  the 
mother  should  have  her  own." 

"  How  does  France  show  the  parental  love  she 
professes  to  have  for  us  }  "  asked  Le  Fontaine,  quickly. 
"  Years  ago  she  sold  her  child  to  England  to  obtain 
peace  with  an  enemy  she  could  not  conquer.  Little 
cares  she  now  for  the  bond-child  she  cast  off  for  her 
own  selfish  ends.  I  know  Father  le  Petite  and  his 
followers  have  a  powerful  influence  when  they  talk  of 
the  love  of  motherland,  and  of  the  glory  of  the  lilies 
of  King  Louis.  They  forget  or  ignore  that  the 
flower  and  beauty  of  Acadie  are  truly  English  sub- 
jects, born  under  the  British  cross  of  the  Georges  of 
England.  If  of  Normandy  blood,  you,  my  sweet 
Evangeline,  are  in  truth  English. 


\  ■  I 


THE  ACADIAN  RANGER. 


8l 


Ff-^ 


"  And  what  blame  have  we  to  fling  at  our  king  ? 
If  we  have  proved  ungracious  subjects,  ready  to  rise 
and  smite  our  master  in  secret,  he  has  ever  been  kind 
to  us.  He  has  left  us  in  peace  and  contentment  to 
grow  fat.  Our  bins  are  overflowing,  our  cattle  look 
sleek,  our  markets  are  good,  and  peace  reigns  in 
our  homes.  But  we  should  neither  let  the  favours 
of  one  nor  the  prejudices  of  the  other  influence 
us ;  let  us  show  some  independence ;  remain  true 
to  ourselves,  —  to  Acadie,  the  favourite  child  of 
America." 

"  We  should  not  forget  that  France  is  its  mother- 
land," persisted  the  notary  public.  "  The  good  abb^ 
tells  us  that  the  pig  is  well  fed  for  the  fall  slaughter, 
which  means  that  we  are  being  liberally  fed  by  the 
British  that  we  may  make  bettr-  spoils  for  them.  I 
cannot  say  it  is  not  so." 

"  I  do  not  know  how  Benedict  feels  about  it," 
spoke  up  his  wife,  "  but  as  for  me,  I  am  sorry  the 
Dark  Abb^  has  come  among  us  again.  Troubles 
always  follow  his  —  " 

"Hush,  good  wife!"  interrupted  Benedict.  Now 
you  let  your  woman's  tongue  run  away  with  your 
usual  good  judgment.  Only  last  Sabbath  Father 
Fafard  admonished  us  all  to  be  faithful  to  Acadie, 
and  that  means  we  should  not  forget  the  ties  of 
homeland." 

"  If  we  could  only  be  let  alone,"  she  said,  and  the 


82 


t:ie  younc  gunbearer. 


men  having  no  reply  to  make,  both  began  to  break 
some  of  the  barley  bread  into  the  bowls  of  milk, 
when  the  rap  of  the  Woodranger  at  the  door  suddenly 
broke  the  silence,  causing  the  four  to  start  with  sur- 
prise if  not  alarm. 


1  to  break 

1  of  milk, 

•  suddenly 

with  sur- 


CHAPTER   IX. 


ROB    ACTS   THE   SCOUT. 

Although  a  youth  in  age,  Robert  Rogers  was  a 
man  in  experience.     Possessing  a  hardy  constitution 
and  a  fondness  for  the  sports  of  the  forest,  at  six 
years  of  age  he  went  into  the  woods  with  his  father's 
gun  and  shot  a  wildcat.     This  love  for  adventure  and 
outdoor  life  strengthened  with  his  growing  frame, 
so  that  as  a  hunter  and  scout  he  penetrated  even  the 
'■emotest  regions  of  the  extensive  wilderness  stretch- 
ing between  the  English  and  French  settlements.     In 
these  woods  roamed  the  bear,  panther,  deer,  moose, 
wildcat,  and  other  wild  animals  more  or  less  ferocious, 
all  of  which  had  suffered  at  his  hands,  many  of  the.. . 
in  close  encounter.     Besides  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
forests,  he  had  often   met  those  still   more  savage 
denizens  of  the  wildwood,  the  Indians.     It  is  true 
that  comparative  peace  had  existed  between  the  latter 
and  the  white  settlers  since  the  end  of  Lovewell's  war 
in  1725,  two  )'ears  bsfore  our  hero  was  bom ;  still,  he 
had  studied  their  ways  and  methods,  until  none  of 
their  young  braves  were  more  proficient  on  the  trail 

83 


84 


.? 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


than  he,     Rob  Rogers  was  a  born  Indian  trailer  and 
fighter. 

On  this  particular  summer  evening  in  Acadia, 
hundreds  of  miles  from  home,  he  was  conscious  that 
at  last  he  should  be  called  upon  to  exercise  some  of 
the  cunning  arts  of  the  race  he  looked  upon  as  his 
natural  enemy.  He  was  glad  the  Woodranger  had 
given  him  this,  his  first  opportunity  of  proving  his 
metal  on  the  war-path. 

The  forest  from  this  vicinity  swung  off  southward, 
leaving  a  wide  tract  of  meadow  on  the  right  of  the 
narrow  village  of  Grand  Pre.  But  the  hamlet  was 
so  bordered  by  its  orchards  that  it  was  fairly  em- 
bowered in  a  forest,  though  not  in  the  sense  of  the 
term  as  generally  used.  Many  of  these  trees  had 
branches  so  near  to  the  ground  that  they  afforded 
ample  protection  to  any  number  of  persons  who  might 
choose  to  approach  under  cover  of  this  kind.  These 
low-hanging  fruit-trees  at  the  same  time  promised 
shelter  for  Rob  and  Alex,  as  they  advanced. 

But  Rob  selected  the  road  as  the  safest  way  of 
advance,  reasoning  that  any  one  seen  prowling  in  or 
around  the  orchards  might  be  looked  upon  as  a  sus- 
picious character,  especially  by  the  Indians,  while 
any  number  of  pedestrians  would  attract  no  attention 
moving  leisurely  along  the  street. 

Lights  were  burning  at  most  of  the  cottages,  but 
no  one  was  seen  either  moving  about   the  houses 


ROB  ACTS   THE  SCOUT. 


85 


or  on  the  street.  It  was  not  the  custom  of  the 
Acadians  to  be  abroad  much  after  the  Angelus 
h-^d  rung  its  evening  summons  to  home-worship, 
so  to  Alex,  at  least,  this  absence  of  others  did  not 
appear  unusual  or  portentous  of  anything  out  of 
the  usual  order. 

Rob  noticed  this  quietness  of  the  scene,  but  he 
kept  on  in  silence.  Alex's  mind  was  too  deeply 
occupied  in  meditation  upon  the  trouble  which  had 
so  recently  come  into  his  young  life  to  speak. 
Thus  they  were  nearing  the  lower  part  of  the  town, 
where  the  sea  shone  in  the  clear  moonlight  like  a 
huge  silver  shield,  when  Rob  asked  : 

"That  is  your  house  standing  back  a  little  from 
the  main  street,  is  it  not,  Alex  .'  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  how  came  you  to  know } "  asked 
the  young  Acadian,  in  surprise. 

"  From  the  number  of  dusky  watchers  around  it," 
replied  Rob.  Then,  seeing  the  look  of  wonder  on 
the  face  of  his  companion,  he  added  :  "  If  you'll 
promise  not  to  make  any  fuss  I  will  tell  you  a  bit 
of  startling  news." 

"Has  anything  happened  to  mother.'"  inquired 
Alex,  in  alarm. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  Your  father  is  a  brave 
man,  Alex  ? " 

"There  is  not  one  in  Acadie  braver  than  he,  sir." 

"  And  you  want  to  be  worthy  of  his  name .'  " 


m 


iMii'' 


rr 


86 


r//£    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  Yes,  sir,  for  his  sake  and  mother's.  But  what 
has  happened  ?  I  promise  to  be  brave  and  meet  the 
worst  without  flinching." 

"  I  think  you  have  got  the  right  stuff  in  you. 
Well,  it  is  no  use  for  mc  to  beat  about  the  bush, 
particularly  when  that  bush  happens  to  have  a  red 
enemy  concealed  in  it.  Alex,  we  are  likely  to  have 
a  hot  time  before  we  get  your  mother  and  sister 
into  safety.  The  house  is  already  surrounded  by 
Indians." 

Though  he  had  expected  something  like  this,  Alex 
had  hard  work  to  keep  from  giving  expression  to  an 
exclamation  of  dismay  at  this  intelligence. 

"And  mother  —  " 

"  Is,  I  believe,  unharmed  now.  Do  not  be  over- 
alarmed.  The  situation  is  critical,  and  you  might  as 
well  know  the  worst,  but  there  is  a  chance  that  we 
are  not  too  late.  At  any  rate,  we  will  do  our  best  to 
prove  it  so." 

"  I  do  not  see  any  Indians,"  said  Alex,  looking 
sharply  around. 

"  You  would  not  expect  them  to  be  standing  out 
as  targets  for  the  eyes  of  every  passer-by.  They  are 
skulking  in  the  orchard  yonder,  and  I  believe  have 
fairly  encircled  the  house.  No  doubt  they  are  wait- 
ing for  the  signal  from  their  leader  to  spring  out  and 
attack  the  inmates.  The  night  is  not  favourable  for 
such  work,  and  they  have  to  be  extremely  slow  and 


ROB  ACTS    THE  SCOUT. 

cautious.     So  shall  we,  for  that  matter.     While  the 
moon  is  in  our  favour,  it  is  still  against  us." 

"  What  shall  we  do  .'  "  asked  Ale.x,  an.xi  yusly. 

"We  must  reach  the  house  be'^re  the  enemy,  and 
then  get  your  mother  and  sister  away,  if  possible.  If 
not,  we  will  hold  the  fort  against  the  red  imps  and 
their  allies  until  the  Woodranger  comes.  As  the 
French  and  Indians  are  planning  to  start  at  midnight 
for  their  raid  on  Main-i-Dieu,  I  judge  they  will  not 
delay  a  great  while  in  their  attack  here." 

"  How  I  tremble  for  mother's  and  sister's  safety. 
Tell  mc  what  I  must  do  and  I  will  do  it  as  best 
I  can." 

"  I  want  you  to  go  to  the  house  alone.  The  enemy 
will  naturally  think  there  is  nothing  in  that  to  e-xcite 
their  suspicion,  and  it  will  not  hasten  their  assault. 
If  I  should  go  with  you  it  would  perhaps  cause  them 
to  suspect  something  wrong." 

"  How  will  you  get  there  .' " 

"  I  shall  have  to  do  it  without  being  seen.  I  think 
I  can  see  sufficient  cover  to  enable  me  to  reach  the 
house  without  arousing  the  suspicion  of  the  lynx-eyed 
red  men.  Trust  me  for  that.  I  haven't  followed  their 
trails  in  Canada  for  nothing,  and  I  should  be  a  dull 
pupil  of  the  ^Woodranger  did  I  fail.  But  as  it  will 
take  me  longer  to  reach  the  house  than  it  will  you,  I 
want  you  to  remain  right  here  under  the  shade  of 
these  trees  until  I  have  been  gone  ten  minutes,  unless 


I'l 


88 


THE    YOUXG  aCNBEARER, 


»> 


t 


n 


the  reds  precipitate  a  crisis  in  affairs,  when  I  advise 
you  to  look  out  for  yourself.  Hut  their  plans  are  not 
ripe  enough  for  anything  of  that  sort.  When  you 
judge  I  have  been  gone  ten  minutes,  start  down  the 
road  as  unconcerned  as  if  you  had  no  thought  of  a 
Micmac  being  within  a  hundred  miles.  To  keep  up 
appearances  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  whistle  or 
sing,  as  you  approach  the  house.  I  shall  hear  this 
and  know  you  are  doing  your  part.  After  reaching 
the  house,  don't  alarm  your  mother  by  any  account 
of  the  Indians.  You  may  teil  her  about  your  father. 
When  I  have  reached  the  house  I  will  signal  you  by 
the  shrill  piping  of  an  August  cricket  three  times,-  — 
twice  in  rapid  succession,  and  once  arain  after  a  short 
pause.  Remember  all  these  directions  and  act  your 
part  with  a  brave  heart.  Good-bye,  till  I  meet  you 
in  your  own  home." 

A  moment  later  Alex  stood  alone,  and  so  silently 
and  adroitly  did  Robert  Rogers  quit  his  presence  that 
he  soon  lost  track  of  him.  In  the  brief  outline  of  his 
plan  to  Alex,  Rob  had  improved  the  opportunity  to 
select  the  course  that  was  most  favourable  for  him 
to  follow,  and  as  he  left  his  companion  he  dropped 
flat  upon  the  earth,  to  begin  a  tedious  passage  to  the 
Briant  home,  keeping  unde;  cover  of  the  row  of 
willows  skirting  the  roadside  for  several  rods.  On 
his  right  the  meadows  lay  as  level  and  smooth  as  a 
house  floor  for  half  a  furlong  or  more,  over  which 


WA 


aoii   ACTS    THE   SCOUT. 

fell  the  shadows  of  the  willows  aivl  apple-trees  below 
him,  these  shades  growing  shorter  as  the  moon  rose 
higher  and  higher  into  the  cloudless  sky. 

Fortunately  the  rowen  had  grown  up  so  that,  as 
he  crept  piostrate  on  the  ground,  it  afforded  him 
considerable  protection  from  the  sharp  eyes  of  the 
Micmac  scouts.  Necessarily  his  progress  was  very 
slow,  and  he  had  used  up  half  of  the  time  he  had/ 
allotted  to  Alex  bcloro  he  had  got  beyond  the  coveif 
of  the  willows,  and  was  moving  slowly  and  silently 
along  toward  the  orchard.  / 

The  apple-trees  afforded  a  thicker  foliage,  so  the 
moonlight  did  not  fall  so  brightly  here,  but  he  knew 
now  that  he  was  getting  into  close  proximity  of  the 
foe.  If  he  needed  any  proof  of  this  it  followed  soon, 
when  the  cry  of  a  night  bird  rang  out  shrilly  from  a 
clump  of  bushes  scarcely  a  rod  from  him. 

Thinking  it  possible  he  hod  been  discovered,  Rob 
paused  to  listen  intently.  '^I^  did  not  have  long  to 
wait  before  an  answering  cry  came  from  below  the 
Briant  cottage.  This  was  succeeded  by  another  to 
the  south,  and  then  by  a  fourth  from  the  direction  of 
the  beech  woods.  Then  all  was  silent  again,  until 
a  voice  with  a  boyish  intonation  awoke  the  stillness 
with  the  words  of  a  sweet  Acadian  song. 

It  was  Alex,  faithfully  following  his  part  of  the 
plan,  and  as  he  continued  to  send  forth  his  musical 
notes  his  voice  grew  clearer  and  sweeter.     And  as 


%i 


i; 


^ 


•i- 


90 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


»;iv 


the  notes  swelled  on  the  still  evening  air  the  cry  of 
the  supposed  bird  again  rang  out,  sharper  than  be- 
fore, to  be  answered  again  by  the  three  in  the  dis 
tance.     As  the  last  note  of  these  died  away,  the  first 
cry  was  repeated,  though  it  received  no  reply. 

"Alex  has  been  discovered,"  thought  Rob.  "The 
red  imps  will  act  soon,  but  they  v^iil  wait  till  he 
reaches  the  house.  Now  I  know  your  positions, 
Mr.  Reds,  I  can  shape  my  course  so  as  to  avoid  you. 
I  shall  never  have  a  better  chance  to  scoop  a  scalp, 
but  Woodranger  would  call  me  a  fool.  I  suppose  I 
must  wait." 

He  was  already  creeping  away  from  the  hiding- 
place  of  the  Micmac  scout,  moving  slower  and  more 
cautiously  than  ever,  if  that  were  possible.  Down 
through  the  low  branches  of  the  trees  he  caught 
sight  of  the  house  he  hoped  to  reach.  Each  move- 
ment now  placed  a  greate*-  distance  between  him  and 
the  foremost  Indian. 

He  could  tell  by  the  sound  of  Aler's  voice  how 
fast  he  was  progressing,  until  at  last  he  approached 
the  house.  A  momeat  later  the  song  v;as  ended, 
which  showed  that  the  singer  had  entered  the  dwell- 
ing. 

Rob  fancied  he  heard  a  slight  rustle,  as  of  a  body 
moving  through  the  thick  grass  in  his  rear,  but  it 
was  distinguishable  for  only  a  moment.  The  Mic- 
mac was  following  almost  in  his  track.     His  great- 


ROB  ACTS   THE  SCOUT. 


91 


the  cry  of 
r  than  be- 
n  the  dis 
y,  the  first 
>ly. 

lb.     «'  The 
lit   till   he 

positions, 
avoid  you. 
)p  a  scalp, 
suppose  I 

le  hiding- 
and  more 
2.  Down 
le  caught 
Lch  move- 
1  him  and 

'oice  how 
)proached 
IS  ended, 
:he  dwell- 

jf  a  body 
ir,  but  it 
rhe  Mic- 
[is  great- 


est fear  now  was  that  the  sharp-eyed  savage  would 
discover  his  trail,  which  he  had  no  means  of  con- 
cealing. 

Thus,  ir  h  by  inch  and  fcKJt  by  foot,  Rob  ap- 
proached the  house,  every  sense  on  the  alert  to 
catch  some  sign  of  the  enemy  behind  him,  and  to 
guard  against  betraying  his  own  presence  by  some 
careless  act,  A  spot  of  earth  was  flooded  by  the 
moonlight  where  a  tree  was  missing  near  the  cottage, 
but  the  boy  scout  had  no  other  alternative  than  to 
hazard  tne  risk  of  crossing  it.  Accordingly,  lying 
as  closely  to  the  ground  as  possible,  after  having 
covered  his  head  with  some  of  the  rowen  pulled 
from  the  earth  he  crawled  with  the  pace  of  a  snail 
across  the  bar  of  moonlight. 

No  alarn?  ..ching  his  ears,  a  little  later  he  stopped 
at  the  cottage  side,  to  breathe  a  minute,  and  scan  the 
scene  over  before  he  should  signal  to  Alex.  Seeing 
a  door  a  few  feet  to  his  right,  he  crept  along  to  that, 
and  then  the  sharp  chirrup  of  an  August  cricket 
rang  out  on  the  evening  air.  The  third  note  had 
scarcely  died  away  when  the  door  opened  cautiously, 
and  Alex  stood  before  him. 

"I  am  so  glad  yo  r  have  come,"  said  the  latter, 
but  unheeding  him,  1  ob,  still  creeping,  crossed  over 
the  threshold,  until  he  lay  at  full  length  on  the  floor 
insidf. 

"Step  outside,  as   if  you   were   intent  on   sorae 


hU^ 


'^~"!?.»9ir  •it^,-:'.iViVW^'^ 


Ik 


'Hi 


w 


92 


rj/£    YOUNG    GUNtiEARER. 


errand,"  whispered  Rob.     "But  don't  go  far  nor  be 
gone  long." 

Alex  did  as  he  was  told,  and  a  minute  later  the 
two  stood  facing  each  other  in  the  Briant  kitchen. 
Alex's  mother  was  present,  looking  anxious  and 
excited,  and  beside  her  was  a  girl  three  or  four  years 
younger  than  Alex. 

"  My  friend,  mother  and  sister,"  began  Alex,  but 
she  stopped  him  by  saying  : 

"I  understand,  Alex  But,  sir,"  addressing  the 
young  scout,  "I  do  not  understand  what  all  this 
means.  My  boy  tells  me  his  father  is  in  trouble, 
and  your  very  actions  show  that  some  great  danger 
is  over  us." 

"Nothing  that  we  cannot  overcome,"  replied  Rob. 
"  Mr.  Briant  has  been  wounded,  but  a  friend  of  mine 
is  looking  after  him,  and  I  am  he^e  to  see  what  can 
be  done  in  your  welfare." 

His  assuring  tone  gave  her  hope,  and  she  imme- 
diately appeared  more  calm,  saying,  in  a  tone  which 
told  that  she  was  equal  to  what  she  professed : 

"  There  is  some  great  danger  menacing  us.  I  know 
as  well  as  if  you  had  said  .so.  But  I  do  not  under- 
stand its  nature.  I  vish  you  would  tell  me,  so  I  can 
do  my  part  toward  defending  our  home.  I  am  u.sed 
to  danger,  and  I  know  my  husband  has  offended  the 
French,  for  we  are  not  Acadians  by  birth.  It  will 
be  better  for  me  to  know  the  full  truth." 


■?  ■*a»*iEgg:"?|i;-i9ir!" 


■ 


l^'SSlLMKJia'  jBV99r^9^}t'\ .." 


/fOB  ACTS   THE  SCOUT. 


93 


far  nor  be 

e  later  the 
It  kitchen, 
ixious  and 
four  years 

Alex,  but 

essing  the 
at  all  this 
in  trouble, 
?at  danger 

plied  Rob. 
id  of  mine 
:  what  can 

she  imme- 
one  which 
led: 

IS.  I  know 
lot  under- 
:,  30  I  can 
am  used 
ended  the 
I.     It  will 


Rob  was  examining  the  priming  of  his  gun  at  that 
moment,  but  he  had  seen  that  she  was  a  beautiful 
woman  of  middle  life,  whose  every  action  showed 
that  she  was  brave  and  to  be  trusted.  He  realised 
the  truth  of  what  she  had  said,  and  quickly  apprised 
her  of  the  real  situation.  She  listened  without 
trepidation. 

"  I  am  glad  I  know,"  she  said.  "  Wallace  left  a 
gun  at  home  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you  that  I  can 
use  it  as  well  as  half  the  men,  in  a  case  of  necessity." 

"I  will  get  mine,"  '•dded  Alex.  "The  Micmacs 
will  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  gain  entrance  here." 

Alex  started  for  his  weapon,  and  when  both  he 
and  his  mother  had  armed  themselves  and  joined 
Rob,  the  latter  said  : 

"At  present  we  can  only  watch  and  wait.  One 
of  you  had  better  take  a  station  where  a  view  of  the 
street  can  be  had,  both  up  and  down  the  road.  The 
other  will  do  well  to  keep  a  close  watch  toward 
the  east.  I  will  look  out  toward  the  west  and  south. 
Let  me  know  at  the  least  cause  for  alarm." 

This  plan  was  at  once  acted  upon,  Alex  taking  the 
post  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  road,  as  directed 
by  Robert  Rogers. 

The  three  watched  and  waited  in  silence  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  and  it  began  to  seem  to  Mrs.  Briant 
that  they  were  not  going  to  be  molested,  when  the 
young  scout  called  to  her.     Upon  reaching  his  side 


1  i 


■1  -  j  i 


r 


i 


'I 

)■.! 


m 


94 


T-iViS'    YOUNG   GUNREARER. 


he  pointed  toward  the  woods,  when  she  saw  crossing 
the  meadow  a  small  body  of  men  led  by  one  who  was 
carrying  over  his  head  a  sort  of  rude  flag. 

"  They   are    Indians  —  Micmacs  !  "    she  declared. 
"  What  does  it  mean  > " 

"  They  want  to  speak  to  some  one,  probably  the 
occupant  of  the  house.    We  will  watch  them  awhile." 
Soon  finding  that  the  party  continued  to  approach 
in  a  bcdy,  he  said  : 

"  It  begins  to  look  so  they  were  working  a  dodge 
to  get  upon  us  in  a  body.  That  must  be  stopped. 
You  must  show  a  flag,  and  order  them  to  stop  as 
soon  as  they  come  within  hearing.  It  will  not  be 
best  for  me  to  be  seen  at  present,  but  I  will  be 
ready  to  fire  upon  them  the  instant  I  see  anything 
wrong  about  their  actions.  Never  fear  but  I  will  see 
that  they  do  not  surprise  you." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  replied.  "And  here  is  a 
kerchief  which  will  be  all  I  shall  need.  I  suppose  I 
had  better  open  the  door." 

She  spoke  calmly,  and  quickly  prepared  to  carry 
out  the  plan. 

"  You  had  better  display  your  signal  from  the  win- 
dow. If  they  do  not  stop  at  sight  of  it,  shout  for 
them  to  do  so.  If  that  does  not  have  the  effect,  I 
will  see  what  a  chunk  of  lead  will  do  toward  stopping 
them.     It  will  fix  at  least  one." 

Raising  the  nearest  window,  she  was  soon  shaking 


^■C:«a^^l£<^£S^igigil,#&»^^iiawa£*M^:-. 


bably  the 

n  awhile." 

approach 

a  dodge 
stopped. 

0  stop  as 
11  not   be 

1  will  be 
anything 
I  will  see 

here  is  a 
uppose  I 

to  carry 

the  win- 
ihout  for 
effect,  I 
stopping 

shaking 


■i 


CHAPTER    X. 


OUTWITTING   THE   ENEMY. 


It  was  a  critical  moment  at  the  Briant  cottage,  and 
Rob  felt  that  only  immediate  action  could  save  them. 
It  looked  as  if  this  party  had  appeared  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  inmates,  while  the  abb^  effected  a 
surprise  upon  them.  But,  whether  in'  answer  to  the 
signal  of  Mrs.  Briant  or  not,  the  approaching  party  of 
Micmacs  stopped,  the  leader  swaying  his  flag  to  and 
fro  with  an  evident  purpose.  This  body  had  kept  in 
the  opening  of  the  meadow,  so  that  they  were  in 
plain  sight  of  the  house.  They  could  also  command 
a  view  of  the  road. 

"The  abb^  must  not  be  allowed  to  enter,"  de- 
clared Rob.  "Here,  Alex,  take  my  stand,  and  do 
not  hesitate  to  fire  at  the  foremost  of  the  reds,  in 
case  they  show  any  hostile  movement.  Your  mother 
will  parley  with  them,  until  I  can  dispose  of  the  Dark 
Abb^." 

Alex  obeyed  with  alacrity,  while  Rob  ran  lightly 
to  the  post  he  had  just  left.  A  glance  up  the  road 
showed  him  the  figure  of  the  approaching  priest,  as 
he  was  seen  through  the  intersecting  branches  of  the 


?^"*^?o^^n?3asicr.ri5^«£:v  ■■ 


OUTWITTING    THE  ENEMY. 


97 


trees  lining  the  roadside.  The  element  of  fear  never 
existed  in  the  heart  of  Robert  Rogers.  The  talse 
priest  had  shown  himself  to  be  an  enemy,  not  only 
to  the  peace  of  the  community,  but  to  the  safety  of 
all  honest  people.  With  this  thought  in  his  mind, 
he  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  to  glance  along  its 
barrel,  as  the  man  came  into  plain  sight  under  the 
next  stretch  of  moonlight. 

Simultaneously  with  this  action  on  his  part,  his 
quick  eye  caught  the  uplifting  of  a  hand,  and  saw 
it  move  gently  and  swift'y  to  and  fro,  and  then  drop. 
A  smile  overspread  the  set  features  of  Rob,  and  his 
gun  was  lowered  as  quickly  as  it  had  been  lifted, 
while  he  murmured,  in  a  tone  of  relief  : 

"  The  Woodranger !  " 

Concealing  his  true  feelings  under  that  calm  indif- 
ference which  characterised  the  men  of  the  frontier, 
Rob  returned  to  his  companions  in  the  adjoining 
room.  Both  mother  and  son  were  maintaining  a 
close  watch  over  the  party  of  Indians  halted  under 
the  flag  of  truce.  Seeing  that  the  situation  here  had 
not  changed,  the  young  scout  said : 

"  Have  courage.  The  Dark  Abb^  proves  to  be  a 
friend  in  disguise.  Ha!  there  he  is  at  the  door. 
Keep  a  sharp  lookout  while  I  let  him  in." 

A  minute  later  the  Woodranger  stood  within  the 
cottage,  the  black  cassock  and  hood  of  the  priest  still 
concealing  his  garb  of  a  forester. 


98 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


li 


"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Woodranger,"  greeted  Rob, 
"  though  I  cannot  say  I  like  that  manner  of  dress. 
Do  you  know  it  came  near  costing  you  a  bit  of  lead." 

"  It  has  sarved  a  good  turn,  lad,  a  good  turn, 
though  I  must  say  it  ill  becomes  the  craft  o'  the 
man  who  wears  it.  I  see  you  are  on  aidge,  lad,  and 
that  ne'er  chase  o'  buck  nor  moose  e'er  pleased  you 
more  than  this  leetle  amazement  with  the  red  and 
yellow  bearers  o'  yon  pizen  rag." 

"  So  you  think  there  are  French  among  the  Indians 
waiting  out  there  }  "  asked  Rob,  though  he  had  come 
to  the  same  conclusion  some  time  betore. 

"  I  jedge  so,  lad.  Mebbe  I  had  a  better  sight  at 
'em  as  I  come  along,  but  it's  my  idee.  The  chap 
with  the  flag  is  Black  Basil,  the  gunmaker.  But  lest 
they  get  onpatient,  we  must  parley  with  'em.  We 
must  keep  'em  at  arm's  length  till  succour  comes, 
which  I  believe  I'm  safe  in  saying  is  not  a  long  way 
off." 

Rob  led  the  way  into  the  room  where  Mrs.  Briant 
and  Alex  were  still  keeping  vigil  over  the  little  group 
on  the  meadow,  the  Woodranger  following  him,  bring- 
ing forth  from  under  the  priest's  cassock  his  firearm. 

"  Will  you  speak  to  them,  Woodranger  ? "  asked 
Rob.  "  Or  shall  Mrs.  Briant }  I  see  they  have  not 
moved,  though  the  leader  acts  as  if  he  would  like  to. 
I  have  not  thought  it  best  to  show  myself,  as  I  got 
here  without  their  knowing  it." 


wit*' '  •r',;.^  ,ftfe3W^',i^i"iiJS"*eits^:v%w*: 


OUTWFTTING    THE   ENEMY. 


99 


"  Which  showed  good  discretion  on  your  part,  lad. 
Mebbe,  as  they  know  I'm  here,  it  will  be  best  for  me 
to  have  a  few  words  with  'em.  As  we  want  to  keep 
them  at  a  good  distance,  mebbe  I  will  just  step  out- 
side." 

Opening  the  door,  the  forester  stepped  out  into  the 
open  air,  and,  after  advancing  a  couple  c'  rods,  hailed 
the  bearer  of  the  truce,  imitating  the  voice  of  the 
priest  so  closely  that  even  Rob,  who  knew  the  de- 
ception, was  surprised.  The  effect  of  the  brief  dia- 
logue which  followed  was  that  the  party  drew  back 
into  the  shadows  of  the  forest,  and  the  Woodranger 
returned  to  the  cottage. 

"  They  think  I  have  got  matters  fixed  here  to  suit 
my  fancy,  and  so  I  have,  for  that  concern.  It  will 
give  us  ten  minutes,  when  I  have  promised  to  lead 
out  the  captives  —  " 

At  this  point  in  his  speech  the  Woodranger 
suddenly  found  himself  met  by  Mrs.  Briant,  who  had 
given  up  her  post  to  Rob,  when  he  stopped.  Usu- 
ally so  indifferent  about  meeting  the  gaze  of  another, 
he  looked  her  squarely  in  the  countenance  for  a 
moment,  and  then  he  started  back,  as  if  frightened. 
The  pallor  of  his  countenance  was  not  seen  under 
the  shadow  of  the  priest's  hood,  which  nearly  con- 
cealed it,  but  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  for 
a  short  time  it  seemed  as  if  he  would  fall.  Rob  saw 
his  sudden  weakness  and  said  : 


I(X) 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEAREK. 


"  You  are  sick,  Woodranger  !   What  has  happened  ?" 

The  voice  of  his  young  companion  instantly  aroused 
him,  and  he  repHed,  though  his  voice  was  not  as 
steady  as  common  : 

"  It's  nothing,  lad,  nothing.  Mebbe  the  air  is 
clus  ;  I  feel  that  way.  I  must  go  out.side ;  I  cannot 
stay  here.  I  do  not  think  the  varmints  will  disturb 
you  for  a  le^  tie  spell,  but  you  had  better  keep  'em 
kivered.  I  hope  you'll  pardon  an  ol'  man's  weakness, 
but  the  air  be  clus  —  very  clus,"  saying  which,  the 
Woodranger  hastened  to  the  front  door,  and,  standing 
on  its  threshold,  drank  in  a  good  long  draught  f  the 
sea-wet  air  as  it  came  in  from  Minas  Basin.  Appar- 
ently forgetful  of  the  danger  surrounding  them,  he 
stood  there,  until  Rob,  who  could  stand  the  suspense 
no  longer,  joined  him,  having  left  Alex  and  his  mother 
at  the  lookout.  The  strange  action  of  his  friend  and 
his  complete  disregard  for  his  usual  caution  had 
alarmed  the  boy  scout,  who  asked,  anxiously,  as  he 
reached  the  side  of  the  forester : 

"  Are  you  better,  Woodranger  }  " 

"  Is  that  you,  Rob  .'' "  inquired  the  Woodranger, 
starting  back  like  one  suddenly  awakened  from  a 
deep  sleep,  but  ouickly  recovering  something  of  his 
composure.  "  Have  I  been  —  alack  !  now's  me,  I  do 
not  disremember,  now  my  memory  has  called  my 
attention  to  it.  It  was  an  awful  lack  o'  jedgment. 
Say,  lad,"  clasping  him  by  the  hand,  "as  you  love 


-ViUXMrnK'! 


OUTWITTING    THE   ENEMY. 


lOI 


me,  durst  think  she  understood  it  so  ?     The  air  was 
clus,  very  clus." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Woodranger.  I  never 
saw  you  so  affected  before.  Of  course  Mrs.  Briant 
did  not  notice  it.     It  was  I  who  was  surprised." 

"  Thank  you,  lad,  thank  you,  though  I  be  ashamed 
to  look  you  in  the  eye.  So  she  is  his  wife ;  and  the 
boy  and  gal  are  their  children  }  Didst  hear  me  say 
aught  that  committed  me  in  my  weakness?" 

"  Not  a  word,  Woodranger.  Kut  she  was  anxious 
about  you,  as  I  was,  and  took  my  place  while  I  came 
to  speak  to  you." 

"  Which  was  very  considerate.  And  she  said  no 
more?  Let  fall  no  word  that  might  be  construed 
into  —  now's  me,  how  childish  I  be  growing,  and  for- 
getting this  outlandish  garb  covering  me  from  head 
to  foot.  Durst  know  I  love  it  for  its  deception  ? 
Lad,  there  be  times  when  it  seems  to  me  that  decep- 
tion is  a  vartue.  Say,  Rob,"  renewing  his  clasp  upon 
his  young  companion's  arm,  "  you  and  I  have  had 
many  long  perambulations  together,  sometimes  for 
the  blessed  privilege  o'  imbibing  the  free,  pure  air  o' 
the  pine-scented  forests ;  anon  bent  on  some  stern 
chase  that  led  us  a  Joe  English '  race.     In  all  'em 


I   I 


•  Joe  English  was  a  friendly  Indian  who  once  escaped  from  a 
party  of  enemies  by  a  leap  for  life  over  a  high  precipice  forming 
the  side  of  a  rugged  eminence,  which  bears  his  name,  among  the 
hills  of  the  Granite  State. 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBF.ARER. 

trails,  and  cross-trails,  and  crisscross-trails,  didst  e'er 
see  me  too  tired  o'  foot  to  do  you  a  favour,  or  too  faint 
o'  heart  not  to  risk  myself  in  your  defence  ? " 

"  Never,  Woodranger.  A  truer  friend  never 
lived." 

•<  Nay,  nay,  lad,  it  was  not  that !  I  do  not  desarve 
it,  and  'less  my  good  opinion  o'  you  be  shaken,  do 
not  repeat  it.  Sich  boasting  makes  us  all  weak. 
What  I  had  to  ask  was,  — and  you'll  not  be  thinking 
I'm  asking  too  much,  'teeing  I  ask  it  in  good  faith, — 
promise  to  forgive  and  forget  the  ol'  man  this  indis- 
cretion, blameful  though  it  may  be.  You'll  promise, 
lad  .'     The  air  was  clus,  very  clus." 

Without  fully  understanding  what  his  companion 
meant,  Rob  clasped  his  hand  firmly,  saying ; 

I  know  of  nothing  to  forgive  or  to  forget,  but  I 
promise  on  my  sacred  honour  to  do  both." 

"  And  never  mention  it  to  any  person .'  And  if 
she  should  mention,  which  I  do  not  believe  she  will, 
—  mind  you,  I  only  surmise  this,  —  you  will  recall 
nothing  I  said  or  did  which  will  fix  it  in  her  mind } " 

"  I  promise  all,  Woodranger.  Now  I  want  you  to 
tell  what  has  happened  since  we  parted,  and  what  we 
are  to  do." 

'•  I  was  coming  to  that,  lad,  I  was.  Talking  does 
make  one  forget." 

The  Woodranger  then  briefly  described  to  Rob  his 
second  visit  to  Le  Noir's  smithy,  and  how  he  had 


itell.-;*:!,*  .»»■.«.■*«  j^a«S.»MWSWi»^Si»>«.''.SS^JS.; 


OUTWITTING    THE   F.NEMY. 


103 


never 


taken  Wallace  Briant  to  the  home  of  Hencdict  le 
Fontaine.  As  the  reader  is  in  ignorance  of  his  follow- 
ing adventures,  it  would  only  be  justice  to  him  that 
the  forester's  story  should  be  recorded  from  the  time 
he  reached  the  home  of  the  Acadian  farmer  to  his 
appearance,  in  the  guise  of  the  Dark  Abb<i,  at  the 
Briant  cottage. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  or  rather  as  I  was  going 
to  say  —  how  flustered  I  be !  Now's  me,  to  begin 
over  ag'in,  Benedict  hailed  me  with  joy,  and  wouldst 
fain  have  pulled  me  into  the  house  that  I  might  sup 
with  him  and  the  notary,  Jean  Hebert.  But  when  I 
tol'  him  o'  my  comrade,  he  grew  discreet,  which  I  set 
down  as  a  good  sign.  I  tol'  him  o'  friend  Briant's 
predicament,  keeping  back  sich  parts  'bout  ourselves 
as  my  jedgment  counselled  me.  He  soon  showed  me 
he  was  no  ways  the  liker  0'  the  Dark  Abb6,  and 
more'n  that,  the  priest  is  losing  favour  in  Grand  Pr^. 
Father  Fafard  does  not  prove  o'  sich  wanton  ways, 
and  finally  Benedict  promised  to  trail  with  Briant, 
even  to  harbouring  him  if  that  became  necessary. 
Then  he  asked  me  to  keep  under  kiver  till  he  could 
talk  with  Jean  Hebert  and  see  how  the  stick  floated 
with  him. 

"  The  notary  public,  v/hom  I'm  free  to  set  down  as 
a  purty  righteous  sort  o'  a  man,  'greed  to  help  us  in 
this  amazement.  He  was  the  more  free  to  do  this 
when  I  tol'  him  a  part  o'  what  I'd  overheerd  in  Le 


'^^ 


104 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


Noil's  smithy.  This  all  goes  to  prove  me  that  the 
more  discreet  neutrals  are  fair  and  above  mark  in 
this  scrimmage.  We,  arter  talking  the  'fair  over, 
decided  that  it  would  be  better  for  Briant  and  his 
family  to  get  away  from  Grand  Pre  to-night.  He 
thinks  they  will  be  tolarable  safe  at  a  settlement  of 
Scotch  people  on  the  Barney  River.  You  and  I  are 
to  go  up  the  basin  and  then  the  Subenacadie  River 
with  them,  and  then  take  a  cross-cut  foi  Main-i-Dieu. 
Briant  thought  one  Jean  Vallie  would  go  with  us, 
and  Benedict  sent  a  messenger  to  find  this  Basque, 
who  lives  on  one  ot  the  small  rivers  above  here.  We 
are  to  pick  him  up  as  we  go  along. 

"  Both  Benedict  and  Jean  Hebert  were  determined 
to  call  in  the  village  priest,  which  cour:;e  I  was  free  to 
call  an  indiscretion.  I  was  very  free  to  acquaint  them 
with  my  idee,  but  let  'em  foller  the  trail  as  they  had  set 
the  stick.  While  the  priest  was  coming,  Briant,  at  the 
'vice  o'  Benedict,  had  the  notary  make  out  papers  put- 
ting his  property  into  the  hands  o'  one  o'  the  neutrals. 
No  Micmac  will  run  counter  to  ?.n  Acadian,  and  I  could 
see  this  was  like  hitting  the  bull's-eye  with  a  good  gun 
at  sixty  paces.  When  Briant  comes  back  ag'in,  arter 
the  storm  has  blown  over,  he  will  have  his  home  safe 
and  sound. 

"  By  that  time  Father  Fafard  came,  and  I'm  free  to 
say  that  I  found  him  agreeabler  than  I  expected. 
What  set  me  a-liking  the  man  was  his  way  of  speaking 


m~ 


i  ;■  .>t*it^**'a5»anss<^-*-: 


■.-■A.Lr-5i*£«ii*v.-'' 


r 


M 


me  that  the 
)ve  mark  in 
e  'fair  over, 
ant  and  his 
-night.  He 
ettlement  of 
3u  and  I  are 
icadie  River 
ilain-i-Dieu. 
go  with  us, 
his  Basque, 
e  here.    We 

determined 
was  free  to 
quaint  them 
they  had  set 
iriant,  at  the 
papers  put- 
he  neutrals, 
and  I  could 
a  good  gun 
ag'in,  arter 
i  home  safe 

I'm  free  to 

expected. 

of  speaking 


OUTWITTING    THE  ENEMY. 


105 


right  out.  As  soon  as  I  I'arned  this  I  could  see  that 
my  prejudice  had  warped  my  jedgment,  and  that 
Benedict  and  the  notary  were  in  the  right.  I  ain't 
one  to  dam  the  waters  0'  a  clear  stream,  especially 
when  that  stream  be  the  one  along  which  I've  got  to 
paddle  my  own  canoe,  and  told  him  o'  my  prefarment 
and  my  prejudice,  which  seemed  to  set  him  in  good 
humour.  Being  clever  in  sich  doings,  as  well  as  in 
praying,  he  fixed  up  Briant's  wound,  not  but  what  I 
had  done  a  good  job  under  the  circumstances.  I  think 
I  may  be  pardoned  in  saying  this  much  for  myself. 

"While  the  priest  was  doing  this,  the  rest  o'  us 
pieced  out  a  plan  by  whic*h  we  could  carcumvent  the 
inemy  and  get  Briant  on  to  a  boat  at  the  mouth  o'  the 
Gaspereau.  Benedict  shovved  a  cunning  which  I  am 
free  took  my  jedgment.  He  said  he  was  expected 
to  take  a  load  o'  barley  straw  in  the  morning  down 
to  mend  a  break  in  the  dike,  and  that  the  stuff  was 
already  loaded  on  one  o'  his  ox-wains.  His  plan  was 
to  take  Briant  in  the  midst  0 '  the  litter  to  the  boat- 
landing  near  the  river.  He  would  have  to  go  past 
Briant's  home,  and  under  pretence  0'  putting  on 
more  straw  could  secrete  his  wife  and  boy  and  garl  on 
the  cart.  If  any  one,  as  in  all  likelihood  there  would 
be,  should  see  him  starting  at  this  unseemly  hour,  he 
would  jedge  that  the  dike  had  grown  leakier  so  fast 
that  Benedict  durst  not  wait  till  mornmg,  and  think 
nothing  strange  o'  the  trip. 


ff 


^e^    \ 


io6 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  The  priest  being  as  much  concerned  as  any  one, 
and  willing  to  take  hold  like  a  man,  to  car  cum  vent 
the  Dark  AbW  in  bis  plotting  and  killing,  I  corld  see 
that  I  was  ne'er  needed  to  help  make  the  start.  So 
I  left  'em  to  perambulate  ahead,  and  see  what  amaze- 
ment wai  working  with  you.  Now  I'm  coming  to  *^^he 
queerest  part  o'  my  tale,  which  I'm  taking  a  deai  o' 
time  to  tell. 

"Just  as  I  was  coming  down  th'^  lane,  which  was 
darkened  by  the  shadows  o'  the  trees  overhanging  the 
path,  I  suddenly  found  myself  beset  by  that  blameful 
priest.  I  see  that  he  was  in  'arnest,  so  I  don't  pre- 
fess  to  say  that  I  hild  back  a  bit.  I  just  clubbed  ol' 
Danger,  and  sooner  than  a  squirrel  could  shake  his 
tail  I  dropped  the  ol'  feller  at  my  feet.  My  first 
though;  was  to  leave  him  there  as  he  had  fell,  but  a 
bit  o'  cunning  came  into  my  head,  and  I  see  how  I 
could  make  something  out  o'  this  amazement  to  our 
good.  So  I  took  off  his  long  black  gown  and  put  it 
on  myself.  Then  I  put  on  his  cap.  Having  done 
this,  and  finding  him  coming  to,  I  took  the  liberty  to 
tie  up  his  hands  and  feet,  and  stuffed  his  mouth  full 
o'  cloth.  Then,  arter  pulling  him  out  of  the  path,  I 
came  down  here.  And,  as  I  s'ly  it,  here  comes  good 
Benedict  with  his  ox-wain  loaded  with  barley  straw." 


kiUA.*4u«.*^i'..'-/.^-^*&^n^)*fc 


,vWt>iiaiiv.s&ss*i.''<aKSi#ai*4 


s  any  one, 
arcunivent 

corld  see 
start.  So 
lat  amaze- 
ing  to  ♦^he 

a  dcai  o' 

which  wao 
mging  the 
:  blameful 
don't  pre- 
lubbed  or 
shake  his 
My  first 
:ell,  but  a 
see  how  I 
It  to  our 
nd  put  it 
ing  done 
liberty  to 
outh  full 
e  path,  J 
nes  good 
'f  straw." 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE    FUGITIVES. 


The  history  of  the  colonial  wars  is  largely  a  record 
of  long  and  arduous  marches  by  the  opposing  forces 
through  trackless  forests,  in  order  to  make  an  attack 
on  seme  isolated  garrison  or  settlement,  that  the 
fortunes  of  ihe  warlike  hosts  demanded  should  be 
captured  and  held.  In  a  yet  more  fearful  manner  is 
the  biography  of  the  colonists  filled  with  perilous  and 
hazardous  flights  from  home  at  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  the  savage  enemy ;  or  with  those  still  more 
trying  and  terrible  journeys  as  captives  in  the  power 
of  merciless  captors  ;  or.  Providence  permitting  that 
they  should  succeed  in  escaping  their  captors,  with 
the  sufferings  and  hardships  of  a  hundred-mile  flight 
through  an  unbroken  wilderness,  beset  by  wild  beasts 
and  pursued  by  revengeful  foes. 

The  intended  flight  of  the  Kriant  family  was  thus 

no  exception  to  the  general  trend  of  the  times,  and 

they  submitted   to   the  inevitable  with    unflinching 

fortitude      Benedict  had  not  trusted  any  one  to  drive 

the  oxen  for  him,  so  that  he  was  walking  beside  the 

107 


m 


io8 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Wk.: 


slow-moving  wain  as  it  entered  the  yard  in  front  of 
the  cottage  where  the  Woodranger  and  Rob  Rogers 
were  anxiously  awaiting  its  approach. 

"  Lend  such  assistance  as  you  can,  lad,"  said  the 
forester.  "  I  will  keep  a  watch  over  tl.c  prowling 
hea  hens  to  see  that  they  do  not  steal  an  amazement 
on  us.  Have  the  woman  take  all  the  food  she  has  on 
hand,  for  there  is  nothing  like  being  prepared  for 
what  may  happen." 

With  these  words  the  Woodranger  turned  away, 
and  Rob  went  to  apprise  Mrs.  Briant  of  the  under- 
taking ahead.  She  had  already  expected  that  flight 
of  some  kind  would  have  to  be  made,  and  now,  know- 
ing that  her  husband  was  able  to  go  with  her,  she 
began  her  preparations  with  calmness  and  alacrity. 
And  while  she  quickly  gathered  together  the  few 
things  she  wished  to  take  with  her,  Benedict  and 
Rob,  assisted  some  by  Alex,  who  was  helping  both 
them  and  his  mother,  brought  out  vhe  barley  straw 
they  wished  to  add  to  the  load.  The  wain  had  been 
purposely  left  near  to  the  house,  and  as  soon  as  possible 
Mrs.  Briant  was  allowed  to  ascend  by  a  short  ladder, 
under  the  covering  of  barley  straw  held  over  her 
head  by  the  forks  in  the  hands  of  Benedict  le  Fon- 
taine and  Rob  Rogers.  In  the  same  way  Alex  and 
Mab  gained  the  load,  when  more  straw  was  pitched 
o\  cr  them,  and  such  things  thrown  up  as  they  wished 
to  take. 


.^li 


..*;;fe»iii;'?:^5ir 


w 


n  front  of 
r»b  Rogers 

"  said  the 
:  prowling 
mazement 
she  has  on 
spared  for 

led  away, 
he  under- 
:hat  flight 
ow,  know- 

her,  she 
1  alacrity. 

the  few 
edict  and 
ling  both 
ley  straw 
had  been 
s  possible 
rt  ladder, 
over  her 
t  le  Fon- 
Alex  and 
s  pitched 
iy  wished 


THE  FUGITIVES. 

Benedict  closed  the  door,  scratched  up  with  the 
fork  a  few  of  the  scattered  straws,  and  telling  Rob  to 
keep  close  beside  the  loaded  wain,  he  picked  up  his 
goad-stick,  calling  loudly  to  the  oxen  to  move  on. 
The  flight  was  begun. 

As  Rob  was  looking  anxiously  around  for  the 
Woodranger,  the  latter  came  swiftly  and  silently  to 
his  side,  saying : 

I  have  been  thinking  very  fast,  lad,  and  I  have 
a  leetle  argyment  to  offer  at  this  perticular  time. 
We've  come  to  the  neutral  grounds  on  private  busi- 
ness, and  I'm  the  last  person  that's  going  to  desart 
the  man  who  has  confidenced  me  with  some  perticu- 
lar work.  In  that  line  o'  reasoning  it  be  our  duty  to 
look  arter  the  interests  o'  Captain  Vaughan  before  we 
run  haphazard  into  an  amazement  for  a  stranger. 
But  I  'low  there  be  ^elicate  p'ints  in  this  matter 
which  do  not  float  on  the  surface  like  a  stick.  The 
captain's  business  can  wait  a  few  weeks.  I  have  al- 
ready hinted  some  things  to  Benedict,  and  he  says  he 
will  look  arter  sorr  e  matters  for  us.  But  I  can't  keep 
'em  poor  settlers  at  Main-^-Dieu  out'n  my  mind. 
Now  the  p'int  I  wish  to  ask  you  to  settle  is  this : 
Shall  we  remain  here,  or  go  to  Main-i-Dieu  helping 
along  the  Briants  as  we  can .' " 

"  I  am  with  you,  Woodrange/,  in  whatever  you 
decide.    But  I  am  in  favour  of  going  to  Main-i-Dieu." 

"  I  knew  it,  lad,  I  knew  it.     Well,  it  shall  be  so. 


■1  M 


I  lO 


THE    YOUNG  CUNBEARER. 


I 


P 


And  there  is  another  snarl  in  my  string  o'  knots 
which  I  want  to  unkink.  There  is  likely  to  be  — 
and  mind  you  I  ne'er  like  to  prod  a  hornet's  nest  just 
to  hear  the  critters  buzz  —  a  hot  chase  for  the  Briants. 
So  I  ha  minded  that  it  might  be  wiser  for  you  and 
me  to  separate.  By  that  I  design  that  you  keep 
along  with  'em,  while  I  will  take  a  light  canoe  and 
sort  o'  trail  behind.  1  will  keep  a  lookout  for  the 
reds,  and  be  on  hand  in  case  I  be  needed." 

Though  this  plan  was  a  complete  surprise  to  Rob, 
he  knew  his  companion  too  well  to  offer  any  objec- 
tions. If  guessed  that  the  Wood  ranger  had  a 
motive  he  did  not  care  to  mention  in  proposing  this 
plan,  he  was  wise  enough  not  to  suggest  it. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  VVoodranger,  and  I  know 
you  will  be  on  nand  if  you  should  be  needed." 

This  seemed  to  arouse  a  new  thought  in  the 
forester's  mind,  for  he  caught  Rob's  hand  with  an 
impetuosity  quite  foreign  to  his  nature,  exclaiming : 

"  You  don't  think  the  ol'  man  means  to  shirk  his 
part,  lad  >.  " 

"  I  should  never  thirik  that  oi  you  for  a  moment. 
I  believe  your  way  is  best,  and  I  will  do  as  you 
say." 

"Thank  you,  lad,  thank  you.  I  knew  I  could 
depend  on  you.  I'll  risk  you,  too,  where  an  ol'  man 
might  —  mind  you,  I  say  might — fail.  But  always 
remember,  lad,  that  the  experience  o*  years  counts  for 


.■'^.■-./':i^iiV^^'^4.^:ik£i'4A--jiBi;iS.xJ; 


v^kOZHM::'.. 


m 


THE  FUGITIVES. 


Ill 


more  in  the  sum  o'  knots  than  the  zeal  o'  untried 
youth." 

At  that  moment  the  musical  notes  of  a  bird  perched 
in  the  topmost  branches  of  a  moon-silvered  poplar 
fell  on  their  ears,  and  as  the  inimitable  song  rang 
out  sweetly  on  the  Acadian  scene,  the  VVoodranger 
declared  • 

"  Such  songs  fill  my  heart  with  peace.  I  hail  it  as 
a  good  omen.     Adieu,  lad,  adieu." 

Silently  grasping  his  hand,  Rob  lost  no  further 
time  in  following  after  the  loaded  wain,  which  wac 
now  some  distance  away,  pursuing  singularly  enough 
the  same  path  to  the  mouth  of  the  Gaspereau  that 
the  exiled  Acadians  were  destined  to  follow,  eleven 
years  later,  while  being  escorted  by  their  captors 
to  the  vessels  lying  at  anchor  but  a  short  distance 
below  the  place  where  our  fugitives  were  expecting 
to  take  their  boat. 

The  journey  to  the  seashore  was  uneventful,  though 
as  Benedict  finally  stopped  the  oxen  at  the  landing- 
place,  the  report  of  a  gun  reached  their  ears,  and  Rob 
thought  he  heard  the  cries  of  a  mob  of  men.  But  of 
this  he  was  not  quite  sure.  The  thought  at  once 
came  into  his  mind  that  the  Woodranger  had  met 
v/ith  the  enemy.  He  was  confident  the  report  was 
that  of  his  firearm.  As  the  little  party  listened  the 
sound  of  several  shots  fired  in  rapid  succession  came 
to  them,  and  Benedict  le  Fontaine  exclaimed : 


I  12 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"The  old  ranger  has  got  into  trouble,  and  like 
enough  the  horde  will  be  down  this  way!  Here, 
Monsieur  Rogers,  lend  a  hand." 

Alex  had  already  sprung  to  the  ground,  and  his 
mother  and  sister  were  quickly  assisted  from  the 
loaded  wain.  It  was  a  more  difficult  task  to  lift  Mr. 
Briant  from  his  hiding-place  in  the  middle  of  the  load, 
but  Rob  and  Le  Fontaine  proved  equal  to  the  task. 
While  they  were  doing  it  Mrs.  Briant  thoughtfully 
placed  some  of  the  straw  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat, 
making  a  comfortable  resting-place  for  her  husband. 

The  boat  belonged  to  Benedict,  and  was  fortunately 
large  enough  to  receive  the  things  they  had  taken 
with  them,  and  give  plenty  of  room  for  the  occupants. 
No  sounds  came  from  the  direction  of  the  town  now, 
but  the  farmer  was  both  anxious  that  the  party  should 
push  out  from  the  land  and  that  he  might  get  away 
from  the  spot  before  they  should  be  discovered. 

"I  am  sorry  there  is  no  more  I  can  do  for  yon. 
Friend  Briant,  but  I  wish  you  a  safe  journey  and  a 
speedy  return.  Believe  me,  I  shall  think  of  you,  and 
I  will  keep  an  eye  out  to  see  that  Francois  looks 
well  after  your  home." 

"  For  all  of  your  kindness.  Neighbour  Le  Fontaine, 
you  have  my  sincere  thanks,  if  I  am  never  able  to 
repay  you  in  any  more  substantial  manner,"  replied 
the  Acadian  ranger,  who  was  bearing  up  as  best  he 
could  with  the  great  pain  he  was  suffering.     «'  I  am 


'■^^■'fmf!ii&k-^:imv:ik^iSmkiiii!i>Mt^f^&Mi. 


THE  FUGITIVES. 


113 


quite  sure  that  we  have  got  a  start  of  the  Micmacs, 
and  that  we  shall  keep  ahead  of  them.  I  am  sure 
Jean  Vallie  will  be  on  hand  at  the  Avon.  Peace  and 
happiness,  good  Benedict." 

A  moment  later  the  farmer  was  driving  his  ox-wain 
along  the  shore,  while  Rob  and  Alex  took  up  the  pad- 
dle? to  begin  their  long  and  perilous  journey.  The 
latter  had,  at  the  request  of  Rob,  taken  the  bow, 
while  the  other  stationed  himself  at  the  stern.  Little 
seas  slapped  the  sides  of  the  boat  as  they  steered  up 
the  basin.  The  moon  shone  as  brightly  as  ever, 
though  there  were  signs  of  clouds  in  the  west. 

The  events  of  the  past  few  hours  had  crowded  so 
rapidly,  one  upon  another,  that  to  Mrs.  Briant  it 
seemed  like  a  fearful  dream,  and  she  was  silent,  as 
well  as  her  husband,  who  lay  on  his  pallet  of  straw, 
wan  and  worn.  Rob  and  Alex,  intent  on  their  row- 
ing, were  silent  also,  so  nothing  was  said  during  the 
passage  to  the  mouth  of  the  Avon,  vhere  they  were 
expecting  to  find  Jean  Vallie  waiting  for  them. 

This  Basque  settlement  was  considered  to  be  a  part 
of  Grand  Pr6,  though  removed  by  a  distance  of  three 
miles.  At  a  word  from  Alex,  for  Rob  knew  nothing 
of  the  country,  he  steered  the  boat  into  the  wide- 
mouthed  river,  with  its  marshes  reaching  back  into 
the  country  and  its  broad  belt  of  shallow  water,  where 
it  let  loose  its  flood  into  the  basin. 

It  was  now  past  midnight,  and  the  silence  of  that 


n 


IK 


"4 


THE    YOUNG   CUNBEAKER. 


solemn  hour  hung  over  the  little  village  of  farmers,  a 
solitary  light  being  all  that  was  seen.  Mr.  Briant 
now  rallied  enough  to  take  a  survey  of  the  scene, 
saying,  as  he  saw  the  cottage  light : 

"Jean's  home  is  farther  up  the  river  on  the  left 
bank.  As  he  is  nowhere  in  sight,  we  can  do  no  better 
than  to  paddle  up  to  his  place,  as  serious  as  the  loss 
of  time  may  prove  to  us.  I  am  afraid  the  messenger 
has  failed  to  find  him." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  his  house } "  asked  Rob. 

"  About  half  a  mile.  Strange  I  haven't  thought 
of  it  before,  but  I  have  a  presentment  he  is  not  at 
home." 


".iKrjiSsjjj^i^f j*gl, .'-  .iaa(i;,aisajj.»j 


rmers,  a 

Briant 

:  scene, 


CHAPTER   XII. 


A    STOUT    ARM. 


It  often  happens  that  when  we  feel  the  most 
despondent  hope  is  nearest,  as  the  night  is  darkest 
just  before  the  dawn  of  a  new  day.  Briant  h^J 
barely  given  expression  to  his  discouraging  words, 
when  the  keen  eyes  of  Robert  Rogers  discovered 
the  hazy  outlines  of  a  canoe  in  the  distance  up  the 
river.  As  this  object  grew  rapidly  in  size  and  clear- 
ness, it  was  seen  that  it  was  being  propelled  down 
the  stream  by  powerful  strokes  from  its  single  occu- 
pant. The  hearts  of  the  little  party  of  fugitives  beat 
very  fast,  as  they  checked  *heir  advance  to  watch 
the  approaching  stranger.  Alex  soon  broke  the 
silence  by  exclairair-;  : 

"  It  is  Jean !  See !  he  is  paddling  as  if  his  life 
depended  on  getting  here  in  the  quickest  time 
possible." 

"I  think  you  are  right,  my  son,"  replied  his 
father.  "  It  is  Jean,  faithful  fellow,  and  we  can  do 
no  better  than  to  wait  for  him  to  come  along." 

Their  suspense  was  of  short  duration,  for  it  was 

"5 


:  I'. 


f( 


Ii6 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


but  a  few  minutes  before  the  canoe  shot  alongside 
their  boat.  The  occupant  was  a  small,  wity-framed 
man,  clad  in  leathern  coat  and  leggins,  with  a  tight- 
fitting  woollen  cap  w\k>tv  his  bullet-sha|x:d  head. 
Two  pistols  were  stuck  in  his  bel'  while  a  whinger 
lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  h's  dark  counte- 
nance —  the  Basques  were  of  darker  skin  than  the 
Acadians  —  now  bore  an  anxious  expression,  though 
the  natural  good  humour  of  this  alert  individual  was 
evident  in  each  feature.  It  is  proper  to  add  here, 
which  no  doubt  will  be  learned  later  on,  that  if  Jean 
Vallie  could  not  boast  of  his  size,  he  could  claim  an 
endurance  and  strength  that  few,  if  any,  could  equal. 
His  greeting  rang  with  the  cheer  of  a  rare  good 
fellowship,  as  he  said : 

"  Good  evening,  Monsieur  Briant ;  what  ill  news  is 
this  which  has  reached  me.'" 

"  The  Micmacs,  urged  on  by  some  of  the  French, 
are  on  the  war-path,  good  Jean,  and  they  have 
selected  rne  and  my  family  as  their  first  example. 
My  friends  have  advised  me  to  flee  to  a  place  of 
greater  safety  than  Grand  Pr6.  As  I  have  been 
hard  hit  by  a  French  bullet,  I  was  fain  to  consent. 
We  are  on  our  way  to  Fordhaven,  and  we  are  in  a 
strait  for  more  help." 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  it,"  said  Vallie,  promptly. 
"  Louis  le  'ir^nde,  my  cousin,  would  have  gladly  lent 
his  arm  at  my  request.     If  there  is  time  I  will  find 


"-*3S\'.^«B..'.a,vja^aa-.asAtii;jj*i^j»fii^^ 


c 


alongside 
ty-franicd 
\\  a  tight- 
Kid    head. 
.  whingor 
k  counte- 
than  the 
1,  though 
idual  was 
idd  here, 
It  if  Jean 
claim  an 
lid  equal, 
ire  good 

1  news  is 

French, 
ey  have 
example, 
place  of 
.ve  been 
consent, 
are  in  a 

romptly. 
dly  lent 
vill  find 


A  STOUT  ARM. 


him  at  once.     It  will  not  delay  more  than  half  an 
hour." 

"  Nay,  good  Jean,  it  is  your  own  stout  arm  we 
need.     That  is  all-sufficient." 

"And  that  is  yours  already,  as  you  must  know. 
Is  it  your  plan  to  keep  on  to  Cobequid  ?  " 

"  It  is,  Jean.  And  you  will  have  to  set  your 
canoe  in  ashore,  for  we  shall  need  you  at  the  oars 
here." 

"With  your  permission.  Monsieur  Briant,  I  will 
secure  it  behind  the  other.  It  will  not  add  much  to 
our  labours,  it  is  so  light,  and  it  may  come  in  handy 
by  and  by.     One  can  never  tell  what  will  happen." 

This  idea  was  favourably  considered  by  the  others, 
and  Jean  at  once  carried  his  plan  into  effect.  This 
done,  he  climbed  into  the  larger  canoe,  saying : 

"  I  am  under  your  orders,  monsieur,  only  I  wish 
to  suggest  that  we  move  along  as  rapidly  as  possible. 
I  am  no  weather-wise  if  there  is  not  going  to  be  a 
storm  within  four  and  twenty  hours." 

"We  must  move  with  as  little  delay  as  possible, 
Jean,  and  I  am  going  to  leave  the  command  with 
you  entirely.  This  young  man  here,"  indicating  our 
hero,  "is  Robert  Rogers  from  New  England,  and 
he  has  shown  himself  a  true  friend  in  thus  assisting 
me." 

"  Good  cheer  to  you.  Monsieur  Rogers,"  greeted 
Jiian  Vallie,  extending  his  righc  hand,  which,  as  it 


w 


r'^'^ft'*'"-^ 


ii8 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


.X 


clasped  that  of  the  boy  scout,  closed  in  a  vise-like  grip. 
But  the  hand  of  Rob  had  muscles  of  iron,  and,  finding 
the  purpose  of  the  other  was  to  test  him,  he  concen- 
trated the  strength  of  his  strong  forearm  for  that 
handshake,  which  made  the  sturdy  Basque  wince, 
while  an  exclamation  of  pain  left  his  lips. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Jean  .' "  asked  Briant. 

"Ouch!  he  has  a  grip  of  steel.  He'll  do,  mon- 
sieur." 

"  So  you  have  found  your  match  for  once,  Jern  'i " 
said  Briant,  with  a  smile.  "  I  imagine  you  and  he 
will  pull  well  together." 

•'  Port  your  helm,"  said  Jean  ;  "  stand  straight  out 
to  sea." 

Rob  now  took  Alex's  place  in  the  bow,  while  the 
latter,  somewhat  against  his  wishes,  was  told  to  rest 
awhile,  until  he  might  be  needed  to  relieve  one  of 
the  others.  Jean  Vallie  took  the  stern  paddle. 
Mr.  Briant,  who  declared  that  he  felt  much  better, 
and  wanted  to  be  bolstered  up  so  he  could  watch  the 
surroundings,  was  made  as  comfortable  as  possible, 
while  his  wife,  Alex,  and  Mab  sat  beside  him. 

The  tide  being  now  on  the  ebb,  they  were  obliged 
to  steer  farther  out  into  the  bay  than  they  had  at  the 
start,  and  already  a  wide  strip  of  red  and  yellow  and 
brown  mud  lay  between  them  and  the  land,  with  its 
giecn  fringe  of  forest.  As  if  to  warrant  Jean  in  his 
prediction  of  a  storm,  thin  clouds  were  already  veil- 


.>.k'}lSr»»iC'**t-'^r*'^ 


.v;,v-^  i;. '^^:*.^^iVfei«>*S^^i^ 


* 


vise-like  grip. 

.  and,  finding 

1,  he  concen- 

irm  for  that 

isque  wince, 

ps. 

Jriant. 

'11  do,  mon- 

nce,  Jern  ? " 
you  and  he 

straight  out 

V,  while  the 
told  to  rest 
ieve  one  of 
ern  paddle, 
uch  better, 
i  watch  the 
as  possible, 
bim. 

ere  obliged 
had  at  the 
yellow  and 
id,  with  its 
Jean  in  his 
1  ready  veil- 


ing the  night  sky,  so  their  view  was  curtailed  con- 
siderably. 

When  the  canoe  was  once  more  headed  nearly 
southward,  and  they  were  fairly  started  on  their 
journey,  Rob  Rogers  cast  a  sweeping  gaze  behind, 
in  the  hope  that  he  might  catch  sight  of  the  Wood- 
ranger.  He  did  discover  in  the  distance  a  small  craft 
which  seemed  to  be  putting  in  toward  the  landing  of 
the  Gaspereau ;  but  nowhere  was  anything  to  be 
seen  of  the  forester.  Knowing  tnat  his  friend  was 
amply  capable  of  taking  care  of  himself,  however, 
Rob  did  not  let  this  fac  give  him  undue  concern, 
and  as  stoutly  and  willingly  as  Jean  Vallie  did  he 
lend  his  arm  to  the  work  of  sending  the  canoe  flying 
along  the  swishing  tide,  the  steady  dip  of  their  pad- 
dles keeping  time  to  the  low  murmur  of  the  reced- 
ing waters. 

Briant  was  in  better  spirits  than  he  had  been  since 
he  had  fallen  helpless  on  the  threshold  of  Le  Noir's 
smithy,  and  he  urged  Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  to  im- 
prove th'^  opportunity  to  try  and  sleep.  This  they 
declared  was  impossible,  and  the  family  fell  into  con- 
versation, which  naturally  referred  to  their  present 
condition. 

"  I  cannot  blame  the  Acadian  very  much,  except 
for  his  blindness  to  his  own  interest,"  said  Briant, 
"  even  if  he  has  turned  againct  me,  when  I  have  ever 
tried  to  be  his  friend.     French  rule  is  never  content 


W 


pr,^-awf4?^,.ai:-.?affl!.W(ScWI' 


I20 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


to  see  its  subjects  thrive.  Acadia,  under  the  British, 
has  experienced  an  era  of  prosperity,  and  yet  its  people, 
at  least  many  of  them,  fail  to  see  that  it  is  better  to 
serve  a  king  who  does  not  piofess  to  love  them,  but 
who  is  willing  to  let  them  alone,  to  one  who  refers 
to  her  in  terms  of  endearment,  while  he  filches  her 
pockets  of  the  last  livre.  Acadia  is  blind  to  her  own 
interest,  and  while  I  lay  no  claim  to  being  a  prophet, 
if  she  continues  to  cling  to  her  ancient  traditions  they 
will  pull  her  down  into  a  gulf  of  misery. 

"I  feel  safe  in  saying  that  the  whole  of  New 
F" ranee  stands  to-day  on  the  brink  of  disaster,  for  *:., 
reason  that  her  population  lacks  the  direct  application 
of  purpose  that  is  the  ruling  passion  of  the  English. 
The  two  can  never  live  together  in  harmony.  Now 
that  this  stupendous  plot  of  the  French  government 
is  on  foot  to  banish  every  English  settler  f:om  New 
England  and  New  York  soil,  the  strife  will  wax  more 
bitter  than  ever. 

"  It  is  not  France  alone,  nor  yet  the  Church,  which 
is  making  all  this  trouble.  It  is  unscrupulous  men, 
such  as  was  Thury,  the  plotting  priest,  and  now  Bigot 
the  intendant,  and  Le  Petite,  the  Dark  Abb6,  his 
willing  tool  in  all  his  schemes  for  personal  gains. 
This  visit  of  the  abb6  to  Acadia  at  this  time  portends 
trouble  to  many,  if  not  all.  Unless  the  Acadians  see 
their  mistake  and  renounce  such  leaders  as  Le  Petite 
soon,  a  dark  day   will   come   for  these  r:isguided 


^fm^mm^i 


^M 


the  British, 
t  its  people, 
s  better  to 
them,  but 
who  refers 
filches  her 
to  her  own 
a  prophet, 
itions  they 

;  of  New 

tcr,  foi  \: 
application 
e  English, 
ny.  Now 
avernment 
f:om  New 
wax  more 

rch,  which 
lous  men, 
now  Bigot 
Abbd,  his 
lal  gains. 
:  portends 
idians  see 
Le  Petite 
misguided 


people.  Another  thing  I  do  not  like  about  this  war- 
fare, and  that  is  the  willingness  with  which  those 
Acadians,  who  lend  their  assistance  to  the  French, 
join  the  Micmacs  in  their  war-paint  and  feathers. 
It  is  natural,  perhaps,  that  the  disfranchised  seignior 
and  the  hopeless  habitant  should  see  in  the  fancied 
liberty  of  the  red  man  the  realisation  of  his  own 
dream.s,  but  he  makes  a  sad  mistake  when  he  follows 
the  Indian's  methods  of  winning  that  freedom." 

"  How  dark  it  has  grown,"  said  Alex,  as  his  father 
finished  speaking.  "  A  thick  mist  is  settling  over  the 
bay." 

Rob  Rogers  at  that  moment  stopped  his  paddling, 
and  motioned  for  Jean  Yallie  to  do  the  same. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


A   LONG   LEAP. 


"  Anything  wrong,  Robert  ?  "  asked  Briant,  anx- 
iously, as  the  boat,  no  longer  urged  forward  by  the 
strong  strokes  of  the  rowers,  drifted  leisurely  with 
the  tide. 

As  Alex  had  said,  a  mist  had  fallen  on  the  water, 
which,  with  the  fact  that  the  moon  had  now  sunk 
below  the  distant  ridge  of  mountains,  made  it  quite 
dark.  It  being  ebb  tide,  they  had  been  forced  to  leave 
the  shore  so  far  to  their  right  that  it  was  not  to  be 
seen.  In  fact,  for  some  time  Rob  and  Jean  had  been 
advancmg  with  extreme  caution,  and  now  the  latter, 
as  well  as  K,:  Briant,  anxiously  awaited  the  boy 
ranger's  explanation  of  his  signal  to  stop.  Rob,  being 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  had  made  a  discovery  which 
might  prove  of  no  slight  moment  to  their  future 
actions.  His  reply,  spoken  in  a  low,  guarded  tone, 
was: 

"  I  am  very  sure  I  heard  the  dip  of  oars  ahead.  Is 
there  any  cove  or  stream  out  from  which  a  craft 
might  come  ? " 

133 


t 


"  We  must  be  close  down  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Petite,"  replied  Jean.  "  I  have  kept  as  close  a  calcu- 
lation as  I  could,  and  I  was  thinking  that,  when  you 
asked  me  to  stop  paddling." 

"That  explains  it,"  said  Rob,  in  the  same  cautious 
voice.  "  I  was  sure  a  boat  had  put  out  from  the 
shore  or  some  inland  water  just  in  front  of  us.  Hark  ! 
I  caught  the  sound  of  a  paddle  then.  Ic  is  not  far 
ahead." 

"  We  cannot  move  too  carefully,  then,  until  we  find 
out  who  they  are,"  declared  Briant.  "  Oh,  if  I  was 
only  well  rid  of  this  wound." 

"  Are  there  settlers  along  this  coast  ? "  asked  Rob. 

"A  dozen  or  more  habitants  live  just  south  of  the 
Petite,"  replied  Briant.  "What  think  you,  Jean, 
would  they  be  likely  to  fall  in  with  the  abb6 .' " 

"More'n  likely,  monsieur.  Have  you  any  idea 
how  many  might  be  in  the  canoe  ahead  of  us.  Mon- 
sieur Rogers .' " 

"I'll  warrant  you  not  less  than  half  a  dozen. 
They  seem  to  be  pulling  along  at  a  good  rate,  for  I 
cannot  hear  their  oars  now." 

"  I  can  see  no  other  course  for  us  than  to  keep 
along  quietly  behind  them,"  said  Jean.  "  Any 
attempt  to  pass  them  would  be  sure  to  bring  us 
disaster." 

"  If  that  must  be  our  plan,  let  us  see  to  it  that  we 
do  not  let  them  discover  us,"  said  Briant.    "  If  they 


111 


i-  ■ 


I: 


124 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Ji 


nhould  prove  to  belong  to  the  party  bound  for  Main-ik- 
Dieu  it  is  going  to  ms'ce  a  serious  complication." 

The  others  had  already  foreseen  this,  and  a  short 
consultation  followed,  as  to  what  was  best  to  do,  the 
prevailing  opinion  being  that  they  could  do  no  better 
than  to  keep  quietly  in  the  rear  of  the  unseen  boat. 
After  resting  on  their  oars  a  few  minutes,  Rob  and 
Jean  esumed  their  paddling.  But  in  less  than  five 
minutes  Rob  again  called  for  another  stop. 

•'  I  can  hear  them  again,"  he  said.  "  They  are 
moving  more  leisurely  now.  Besides  the  steady  dip 
of  their  paddles  I  can  hear  the  murmur  of  voices." 

His  companions  now  all  declared  that  they  could 
hear  the  sounds  of  the  party  ahead,  Briant  saying : 

"  The  want  of  caution  with  which  they  are  proceed- 
mg  seems  to  show  that  they  do  not  belong  to  a 
war-party." 

"  That  may  be  true,  monsieur  ;  or,  if  they  are  on  the 
war-path,  that  they  do  not  deem  themselves  far  enough 
started  to  move  with  the  caution  which  will  be  neces- 
sary later.  Will  it  not  be  better  for  us  to  run  in 
ashore  for  a  brief  stop }  With  a  clear  coast  ahead, 
we  can  soon  make  up  for  it." 

"If  we  should  do  that,"  said  Rob,  "one  of  us 
could  take  the  light  canoe  and  sort  of  scout  out  and 
find  who  they  are." 

This  plan  met  the  hearty  approval  of  both  Briant 
and  Jean,  who,  true  woodsmen  as  they  were,  knew 


rhey  are 
:eady  dip 
oices." 
ley  could 
aying : 
:  proceed- 
3ng  to  a 

ire  on  the 
enough 
be  neces- 
run  in 
ahead, 

ne  of  us 
out  and 

h  Briant 
;re,  knew 


LONG  LEAP. 

the  importance  of  moving  with  extreme  caution.  So 
the  canoe  was  headed  by  the  Basque  in  the  direction 
of  the  Petite  River,  which  emptied  its  waters  into  the 
bay  off  that  point.  So  well  did  the  steersman  shape 
his  course,  that  in  a  few  minutes  Rob  found  that  they 
were  fairly  entering  the  channel  of  the  stream. 

Though  the  mist  hung  too  darJ'ly  about  them  to 
allow  even  a  narrow  view  of  their  surroundings,  Jean 
was  perfectly  familiar  with  their  situation,  and  he 
could  have  scaicely  steered  in  a  clear  day  in  a  more 
direct  course  for  a  sheltered  spot  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  stream  than  he  did  in  the  gloom  of  that  early 
morning.  As  the  boat  grated  on  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  Rob  sprang  out  and  the  craft  was  quickly 
grounded,  and  the  occupants  safe  for  the  time  at 
least  from  the  searching  gaze  of  their  enemies. 

"  Now  if  you  will  let  me  have  the  use  of  your 
canoe,  which  you  so  thoughtfully  took  with  you,  Jean, 
I  will  make  a  little  detour  to  see  if  I  can  learn  any- 
thing of  those  who  have  gone  up  the  bay  ahead  of 
us,"  proposed  Rob,  as  soon  as  the  stop  had  been 
fairly  made. 

Jean  Vallie,  of  course,  readily  agreed,  though  he 
would  have  gladly  performed  the  mission  himself. 
Still,  he  was  honest  enough  not  to  object,  and  a 
moment  later  Rob  disappeared  down  the  stream,  his 
last  words  having  been  for  the  others,  if  he  did  not 
return  inside  of  half  an  hour,  to  act  independently  of 


u  r 


11 


'i  m 


[26 


7y/A  you  JVC  gunbearer. 


him.  So  the  little  party  of  fugitives  made  themselves 
as  I  omfortable  as  possible  during  the  interval  of  wait- 
ing. As  it  was  then  so  near  daylight,  when  they 
might  not  have  another  opportunity  to  eat,  and  their 
recent  exertions  having  given  them  an  appetite,  the 
supply  of  bacon  and  barley  bread  was  brought  forth, 
and  all  ate  a  hasty  breakfast. 

"  If  the  boy  brings  us  back  good  tidings,"  said  M- 
Briant,  "  and  we  have  a  clear  path,  we  ought  to  mak 
the  Subenacadie  River  before  sundown." 

"  Yes,  if  the  storm  does  not  hinder  us.  That  will 
give  us  the  night-time  in  which  to  pass  Fort  Alli- 
ance,' near  the  fork  of  the  Stewiacke,  which  is  a 
French  and  Indian  stronghold,  and  the  most  danger- 
ous point  of  our  journey.  I  shouldn't  like  to  get 
caught  there  as  a  friend  and  I  did  above  Cape  Split 
once." 

"  A  story,  Jean .'  Let  us  hear  it  while  we  wait," 
said  Mr.  Briant. 

"It  doesn't  amount  to  much  in  telling.  Monsieur 
Briant,  and  I  am  a  poor  story-teller,  but  the  whole 
adventure  impressed  itself  so  on  my  mind  then  that 
the  minutest  detail  has  never  left  my  memory.  It 
was  thirty-four  years  ago  last  spring,  and  I  was  then 
a  youth  of  twenty.  I  suppose  I  was  fiery  then,  but 
I  think  there  was  reason  for  an  awakening  of  what 
zea!  one  had  for  his  homeland.    I  was  living  at  Grand 

'  Afterward  re-named  Fort  Ellis. 


m. 


w 


A    LONG   LEAP. 


127 


liem  selves 
il  of  wait- 
hen  they 
and  their 
jctite,  the 
ght  forth, 

'  said  M- 
it  to  mak 

That  will 
Fort  Alli- 
irhich  IS  a 
St  danger- 
ke  to  get 
Dape  Split 

we  wait," 

Monsieur 
the  whole 

then  that 
;mory.  It 
]  was  then 
'  then,  but 
g  of  what 
I  at  Grand 


Pr6  then,  in  a  cottage  not  far  from  where  yours  now 
stands,  monsieur,  when  the  fire-eaters  came  from 
Massachusetts  under  the  lead  of  that  scourge  of 
the  peaceful  Acadiens,  Captain  Church,  and  his 
band  of  despoilers,  who,  with  a  gun  in  one  hand 
and  a  torch  in  the  other,  blighted  the  fairest  scene 
my  eyes  ever  rested  upon. 

"  These  despoilers,  without  any  warning,  fell  upon 
Grand  Pr^,  and  in  one  short  hour  the  fair  meadows 
and  peaceful  homes  were  blasted.  I  was  among  the 
first  to  get  word  of  their  coming,  and,  seizing  my 
weapons,  rushed  out  to  help  defend  the  town.  But 
it  was  like  fighting  the  whirlwind.  The  cottages  of 
the  upper  end  of  the  town  were  already  in  flames 
and  the  occupants  fleeing,  some  of  them  half-naked, 
to  the  woods.  I  was  young,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
I  would  never  flee,  but  fight  till  the  last. 

"I  know  more  than  one  Englishman  went  down 
before  my  fire,  but  I  finally  found  myself,  with  a 
handful  of  others,  driven  back  inch  by  inch  to  the 
seashore.  My  companions  scattered  and  took  to 
the  woods,  leaving  me  alone  with  an  old  man,  who 
had  been  sorely  wounded  in  the  knee.  I  knew  him 
well,  as  I  should,  he  being  of  the  same  race  as  my- 
self. He  begged  of  me  not  to  desert  him.  Within 
plain  sight  of  us  that  moment  was  a  whole  family 
being  put  to  death  in  cold  blood  because  they  would 
not  be  false  to  their  hearts'  dictates. 


138 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  You  need  not  describe  to  me  the  horrors  of 
Indian  warfare.  What  I  witnessed  that  day  outdid 
the  greatest  cruelty  a  bloodthirsty  Micmac  can  con- 
trive to  do.  At  any  rate,  I  heeded  the  supplications 
of  good  Michel  le  Vergie,  and  looked  about  for  the 
most  feasible  way  of  escape.  Michel  could  not  travel 
any,  so,  seeing  a  canoe  on  the  shore  just  above,  I  ran 
to  get  it.  Escaping  the  bullets  of  a  dozen  guns,  I 
sprang  into  the  canoe  and,  paddling  down  to  where 
my  friend  was  waiting  for  me,  took  him  in,  and  then 
began  my  flight  down  the  bay.  I  think  it  would  have 
fared  better  with  me  if  I  had  gone  the  other  way. 
But  once  I  had  started,  there  was  no  turning  back. 

"  I  afterward  learned  thai  the  English  were  going 
to  make  an  attack  on  a  settlement  down  the  bay,  so 
in  giving  us  chase  they  were  not  going  out  of  their 
way,  though  they  did  before  they  got  through. 

"  Good  Michel  soon  proved  himself  better  than  two 
dead  men,  for  he  seized  a  paddle,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
pain  in  his  knee,  did  such  good  work  that  the  English 
could  not  gain  a  foot  on  us.  But  they  did  have  one 
advantage.  Being  so  many  of  them,  they  could  keep 
up  a  noisy  fire  upon  us,  while  v/e  were  obliged  to 
forego  any  reply.  This  rankled  in  Michel's  breast  so 
much,  that  finally  I  told  him  I  could  hold  my  own 
with  the  hounds,  if  he  wanted  to  return  their  fire. 

"  I  was  too  busy  to  see  the  expression  on  the  old 
man's  swarthy  face,  but  I  heard  him  chuckle  as  he 


\ 


A  LONO   LEAP. 


129 


exchanged  the  paddle  for  his  battle-scarred  firearm. 
A  moment  later  its  sharp  report  rang  out,  and  right 
after  it  I  heard  a  cry  of  pain  from  the  foremost 
canoe,  and  knew  he  had  not  wasted  the  shot.  Hut 
the  shot  cost  us  dear.  A  volley  from  the  English 
whistled  uncomfortably  near,  and  one  bullet  made 
a  flesh-wound  in  Michel's  arm,  while  another  tore  a 
bad  hole  in  the  side  of  the  canoe. 

"  Michel  soon  mended  this,  and  thus  we  kept  on 
down  past  Blow-me-down,  with  the  English  close 
upon  our  heels.  The  wounded  arm  of  m>  coinpanion 
now  pained  him  as  badly  as  his  knee,  and  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  lend  me  any  real  assistance  in 
paddling  the  canoe.  By  that  time  I  was  beginning 
to  feel  that  it  must  end  in  a  hopeless  fight,  when  I 
suggested  to  Michel  that  we  ground  the  canoe  near 
Mir.as  Point  and  conceal  ourselves  in  the  woods. 
Another  shot  striking  the  canoe  at  that  moment 
caused  my  friend  to  agree  with  me,  though  he  wanted 
me  to  leave  him  behind  to  meet  his  fate  at  the  hands 
of  the  enemy. 

"  I  would  not  do  that,  and  the  moment  the  canofi 
grounded  I  lifted  him  upon  my  back  and  ran  as  fast 
as  I  could  toward  the  forest.  But  there  was  quite 
an  opening  for  us  to  cross,  where  I  knew  the  Eng- 
lish would  rake  us  with  a  volley.  So,  instead  of  fol- 
lowing the  course  I  had  at  first  intended,  I  kept 
along  under  the  cover  of  a  ridge  of   rock,  until  I 


1 


I30 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEAREK. 


found  myself  a  few  minutes  later  upon  a  narrow  neck 
running  out  to  a  bold  front  of  rock  overhanging  the 
Narrows,  and  which  now  bears  my  name. 

"  I  didn't  know  the  place  then  as  I  do  now,  and 
thinking  I  could  make  a  successful  defence  against 
the  enemies  from  the  cliff,  I  followed  in  that  direc- 
tion. Upon  reaching  the  top,  and  finding  that  fur- 
ther flight  was  'Jut  off  by  a  sheer  precipice  of  fully 
two  hundred  feet,  I  turned  at  bay.  I  counted  ten 
of  the  English,  and  I  do  not  think  my  courage  will 
be  doubted  if  I  say  that  I  trembled  for  the  result. 
If  I  had  been  alone  I  would  not  have  cared,  but 
poor  Michel  was  quite  helpless.  Stunted  trees  were 
growing  at  places,  and,  bidding  him  to  conceal  him- 
self as  much  as  possible,  I  took  a  position  where  I 
could  command  the  best  view  of  the  approach  t  ur 
retreat. 

"  After  a  short  consultation,  the  English  approactied 
the  narrow  strip  of  rock  leading  to  the  cliff,  and  I 
fired.  A  moment  later  Michel's  gun  pealed  out  its 
loud  report,  and  a  second  of  the  enemy  was  no  longer 
to  be  counted  in  the  fight.  But  this  aroused  the 
others,  who  started  toward  us  at  a  run.  I  sprang  to 
the  side  of  Michel,  who  was  near  the  edge  of  the 
rock.  Looking  down,  I  saw  a  ledge  ten  feet  below 
overhung  by  the  shelving  clifif.  I  believed  we  could 
defend  ourselves  better  there,  while  at  the  top  we 
must  soon  fall  victims  to  the  English. 


''^Hii^iiiiSi 


A  LONG  LEAP. 


!3I 


"Seizing  hold  of  one  of  the  slender  saplings,  I 
helped  Michel  to  slip  down  upon  the  rim  of  rock, 
though  his  weight  uprooted  the  tree,  and  he  fell  in  a 
heap  on  the  ledge.  Hut  I  was  quick  of  foot,  anJ, 
just  as  a  volley  from  the  English  filled  the  space 
where  I  had  stood,  I  dropped  upon  the  narrow  shelf 
of  rock  below. 

"  Michel  had  not  been  injured  by  his  tumble,  and, 
both  of  us  getting  back  under  the  side  of  the  cliff  as 
far  as  possible,  we  listened  for  the  movements  of  our 
enemies.  I  saw  the  head  of  one  peering  over  the 
top,  and  I  was  tempted  to  send  a  bullet  into  it,  only 
I  hadn't  yet  reloaded  my  weapon.  But  it  was  better 
as  it  was,  for  pretty  soon  we  heard  them  say  that  we 
had  no  doubt  fallen  into  the  sea  and  Iwen  killed  by  the 
tremendous  fall,  for  it  was  more  nan  two  hundred 
feet  down  to  the  water.  We  judged  that  they  waited 
around  there  for  some  time,  but  after  they  had  gone 
away  we  found  that  we  had  escaped  them  only  to 
get  into  another  situation  quite  as  serious. 

"  Look  where  we  would,  we  could  find  no  chance 
to  ascend  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  while  there  was  no 
foothold  below  as  far  as  we  could  see.  As  it  was 
then  well  on  in  the  afternoon,  and  our  foes  were 
probably  lurking  somewhere  in  the  vicinity,  we  de- 
cided to  remain  quietly  where  we  were  until  morning. 
I  looked  to  my  companion's  wounds,  and  bandaged 
them  as  best  I  could.     A  stiff  sea-breeze  set  in  at 


i.^ 


«*»rr.i«kr-,f  !»!■».-. 


il 


^"•^s 


.Sats£i.;.v. 


132 


THE    YOUNG   GUNRiiARER. 


dark,  and,  as    it    was   still   early  in  the  season,  we 
suffered  not  a  little  from  the  cold. 

"When  the   tedious   night   had  worn  away,  poor 
Michel  was  suflering  great  agony.     His  limbs  had 
swollen  to  double  their  size,  and  he  persisted  in  say- 
ing that  he  should  never  live  to  reach  home,  even  if 
I  did.     While  we  lay  there  waiting  for  the  sun  to 
come  up  so  I  could  make  a  more  thorough  examina- 
tion of  our  positions,  Michel,  to  keep  his  mind  from  his 
injuries,  told  me  much  I  had  not  known  of  our  people. 
While  we  were  considered  to  belong  to  the  Acadiens, 
we  were  cf  an  older,  and,  according  to  his  ideas,  a 
more  honourable  race.   He  spoke  at  great  length  upon 
the  antiquity  of  our  people,  and  traced  our  lineage 
back  to  a   people   once  inhabiting   all   of   southern 
Europe.     He  said  our  ancestors  were  great  naviga- 
tors, who   made   long   voyages   into   far-away   seas. 
Michel  was  well  educated,  and  he  talked  these  things 
very  glibly.     He  told  how  they  used  to  make  whal- 
ing voyages  to  this  coast  long  before  Columbus  dis- 
covered America,  or  even  before  the  vikings  of  old 
Iceland  sailed  along  these  shores.     Jacques  Cartier, 
himself  a  Basque,  found  several  ships  belonging  to 
Basque  fishermen  in  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 
They  called  this  entire  coast  at  that  time,  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  Bucalaos,  which  meant  codfish.  How 
the  old  man's  eyes  sparkled  as  he  told  me  about  this, 
and  explained  that  our  race  was  as  old  on  this  land 


L 


qvn 


i 


eason,  we 

way,  poor 
limbs  had 
;d  in  say- 
le,  even  if 
^e  sun  to 
I  examina- 
d  from  his 
ur  people. 
Acadiens, 
s  ideas,  a 
rtgth  upon 
ir  lineage 
southern 
at  naviga- 
vay  seas. 
:se  things 
ike  whal- 
nbus  dis- 
gs  of  old 
5  Cartier, 
mging  to 
-awrence. 
two  hun- 
sh.  How 
30ut  this, 
this  land 


A   LONG  LEAP. 


133 


as  the  red  men  !  He  charged  me  to  remember  this, 
and  I  have.  Since  then  I  have  learned  from  others 
living  at  Gaspe  that  he  w?s  right. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  how  anxiously  ^ilv;.'lel  and 
I  scanned  the  side  of  the  precipice  as  soon  as  it  was 
light  enough  to  do  so  in  the  morning.  But  we  were 
rewarded  with  no  sign  of  hope.  Here  and  there 
were  irregular  projections  on  the  side  of  the  rock, 
but  in  all  the  sheer  descent  of  more  than  two  hun- 
dred feet  there  was  no  shelf  where  we  could  hope  to 
gain  a  foothold.  The  iop  was  near,  —  so  near,  —  but 
we  had  no  way  to  reach  it,  as  the  rock  overhung  us, 
and  there  was  no  chance  to  get  a  finger-hold  in  its 
flinty  surface. 

"  We  waited  till  nearly  night  in  the  hope  some  one 
might  come  along  who  would  lerid  us  his  assistance ; 
but  when  the  sun  had  5unk  behind  our  backs,  and  the 
cliff  was  throwing  lon<,j  shadows  out  over  the  strait, 
we  decided  on  the'  only  course  open  to  us.  That  was 
to  jump  into  the  sea ! 

"  I  do  not  think  Michel  had  any  hope  of  escape, 
but  it  would  end  his  sufferings,  which  were  intense. 
As  the  distance  was  so  great,  it  was  thought  best  to 
make  as  long  a  line  as  we  could  of  our  clothing,  and, 
after  descending  the  length  of  this  rope,  drop  into 
the  water.  Accordmgly  I  cut  our  jackets  and  leg- 
gings into  strips,  which  I  fastened  together,  until  I 
had  a  line  of  a  goodly  length.     I  then  took  our  waist- 


I'i  .<    '! 


IM 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


coats,  in  fact  everything  that  would  add  to  the  rope, 
and  when  the  pieces  were  all  fastened  together  let 
one  end  down.  It  lacked  a  long  way  of  reaching 
the  bottom.     How  much  it  was  I  could  not  tell. 

"  It  took  longer  to  make  the  rope  than  I  had  ex- 
pected, so  it  was  getting  quite  dark  on  the  water  as  I 
dropped  the  line.  Michel  was  to  go  first.  In  his  con- 
dition it  could  not  be  otherwise.  I  was  to  lower  him 
down  as  far  as  the  rope  would  let  me,  and  then  he  was 
to  cut  the  rope  under  his  arms,  and  take  the  fearful  fall. 
As  we  had  but  one  knife,  I  would  have  to  descend  the 
line  hand  over  hand,  until  I  reached  the  end. 

"  Although  I  was  young,  I  was  strong  in  my  arms, 
and  I  lowered  Michel  easily  enough  down  —  down. 
We  had  not  stopped  for  leave-taking.  Somehow  we 
didn't  have  the  heart  for  that,  for  I  was  sure  that 
we  should  never  meet  again  alive.  I  felt  his  hand 
press  mine  in  a  clasp  that  I  seem  to  feel  now.  I 
turned  aside  my  head  that  he  might  not  be  weakened 
by  the  sight  of  my  tears. 

"  When  the  end  of  the  rope  was  reached,  I  mus- 
tered courage  to  look  down  upon  my  friend.  How 
small  he  looked,  dangling  in  mid-air  like  a  fly.  I  saw 
a  gleatij  of  the  knife  blade,  and  then  poor  Michel's 
body  shot  downward.  The  sight  held  me  with  a 
horrible  fascination,  until  I  heard  a  dull  splash  of 
water,  and  my  friend  had  disappeared.  I  now  realised 
that  it  was  farther  down  to  the  water  from  the  end 


A  LONG  LEAP. 


•35 


of  the  rope  than  I  had  estimated.  I  watched  in  vain 
for  another  sight  of  my  companion.  I  believed  that 
it  would  be  certain  death  for  me  to  follow  him. 

"  No  man  ever  called  me  a  coward,  but  for  a  time 
my  courage  failed  me.  But  every  moment  I  lost 
was  valuable  to  me,  for  the  reason  that  the  tide  was 
ebbing.  In  a  few  hours  the  rocky  bottom  of  the  bay 
would  lie  below  me.  So  I  rallied,  and  with  a  courage 
bordering  on  frenzy  let  myself  down  over  the  edge 
of  the  shelf,  and  then  I  had  no  other  alternative 
but  to  keep  on.  Never  mind  how  I  reached  the  ex- 
tremity of  that  dangling  line,  how  at  last  1  let  go  the 
rope,  and  spun  down  —  down  —  down,  till  I  grew  dizzy 
and  knew  no  more.  When  I  recovered  my  senses  I 
was  in  a  canoe  with  a  couple  of  friendly  Indians,  who 
had  seen  me  drop  into  the  water,  and  picked  me  up 
more  dead  than  alive.  We  found  Michel's  mangled 
body  below  the  cliff,  and  that  ends  the  story  of  my 
escape  from  the  scourge  of  Acadie. 

"  I  have  always  cherished  a  bitterness  for  the  Eng- 
lish ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  have  little  love  for  the 
French  such  as  we  have  at  Quebec.  We  poor  Aca- 
diens  are  like  so  many  kernels  of  corn  between  two 
millstones,  —  bound  to  be  crushed  whichever  way  they 
turn.  But,  see !  the  day  is  breaking.  The  mist  is 
lifting,  and  it  will  soon  be  light.  Where  is  the  young 
man  who  went  away  with  my  canoe  ^  It  is  past  the 
time  for  him  to  be  back." 


... 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

HOW  ROB  FOUND  THE  WOODRANGER. 

Rob  Rogers  paddled  silently  away  from  his  com- 
panions, peering  cautiously  into  the  mist  enveloping 
him  as  he  sped  on  his  way  down  the  river.  Although 
a  stranger  in  these  regions,  he  had  the  intuitive 
faculty  of  one  versed  in  woodcraft  to  pursue  his 
difficult,  if  not  perilous,  errand  without  hesitation. 
Though  the  mist  hung  so  densely  about  him  that 
he  could  not  sec  the  end  of  his  canoe,  he  was  well 
aware  when  the  mouth  of  the  stream  was  reached, 
and  he  sent  his  light  craft  down  the  bay  without 
misgivings. 

He  had  not  gone  far  on  his  new  course,  however, 
before  he  checked  his  swift  passage,  and,  holding  the 
canoe  up  against  the  tide,  listened  intently  for  any 
sound  which  might  reach  his  ear.  While  he  had  said 
nothing  of  this  to  the  others,  he  had  hoped  to  find 
the  Woodranger,  whom  he  judged  must  be  along'' 
soon,  if  not  already  in  that  part  of  the  bay.  The 
only  sound  which  came  to  him  was  the  ceaseless  lap 
of  the  tide. 

136 


.«■ 


HOW  ROB  FOUND    THE    WOODRANGER.      1 37 


So  Rob  resumed  his  paddling,  being  careful  that 
each  stroke  should  be  made  noiselessly.  It  was  five 
minutes  before  he  again  stopped,  and  listened  once 
more  for  some  sound  to  break  the  monotonous  mur- 
mur of  the  dark  v  ers.  He  had  not  waited  long 
before  he  fancied  he  caught  the  faint  dip  of  a 
paddle  in  the  darkness  ahead.  If  he  had  any  doubts 
of  this,  he  soon  heard  a  voice  in  the  same  direction, 
speaking  in  the  patois  of  the  French  to  a  com- 
panion. The  answer  quickly  came  in  the  guttural 
tone  of  a  Micmac. 

Knowing  now  he  was  on  the  right  course,  he  fol- 
lowed along  in  the  wake  of  the  unknown  canoe,  guided 
by  an  occasional  splash  from  a  careless  oarsman, 
but  more  particularly  by  the  voices  of  the  boatmen. 
He  had  learned  enough  to  know  that  there  were  five 
or  six  in  the  canoe,  and  that  they  were  heading  up 
the  bay.  Presently  the  sound  of  the  advancing  party 
died  away,  as  if  they  had  moved  out  of  his  hearing, 
and  Rob,  having  nothing  further  to  learn,  turned 
the  prow  of  his  canoe  back  down  the  bay  toward  the 
Petite, 

I^WSad  not  fairly  swung  half-way  around  in  his 
circle,  when,  without  any  warning,  an  indistinct  form 
shot  across  his  pathway.  One  with  less  command 
over  his  emotions  must  have  given  an  involun- 
tary expression  of  surprise,  if  not  of  alarm,  at  this 
phantom  like  object  suddenly  coming  into  his  pres- 


{'^ 


«m 


T" 


!! 


It! 

I 


138 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEAREK. 


ence,     Kut  Rob  simply  looked  closer,  and  as  he  did 
so  he  uttered  a  single  word,  in  a  guarded  tone : 
"  Woodranger!" 

If  the  forester  had  crossed  his  path  without  having 
given  him  any  warning  of  his  approach,  Rob  had  as 
successfully  placed  himself  in  the  pathway  of  his 
friend.  The  low  greeting  of  the  Woodranger  told 
that  he  appreciated  this  fact : 

"  Well  done,  lad,"  for,  though  enveloped  in  the  mist, 
each  had  not  failed  to  distinguish  his  friend  at  once. 
The  Woodranger  had  been  aided  in  his  discovery  by 
the  sound  of  Rob's  voice.  "  Were  the  dusky  heathens 
as  discreet  as  you,  I  should  have  been  now  in  a  lively 
amazement.     You  are  alone.    How  floats  the  stick  > " 

The  twain  had  allowed  their  canoes  to  swing 
around  so  that  they  rode  side  oy  side,  and,  keeping 
in  this  position,  they  exchai  ged  their  views  of  the 
situation  in  the  following  dialogue  : 

I  left  the  others  a  quarter  oi  a  mile  up  the  river 
just  back  of  here,  while  I  took  a  little  trip  to  see  if  I 
could  get  on  the  track  of  the  enemy." 

"  Which  gives  you  credit  for  proper  discretion,  lad. 
Hast  got  an  inkling  o'  'em  ? "  ** 

"They  are  just  ahead  of  us." 

"  I  'low  that,  seeing  the  onseeming  wa-"  j  o'  con- 
sideration they  give  themselves.  Durst  ^  .low  from 
whence  the  keerless  creatur's  come  ^ " 

"  They  slipped  out  of  the  Petite  just  ahead  of  us." 


^^1 


HOW  ROB  FOUND   THE    WOODRANGER. 


139 


i 


"  I  didst  opine  as  much,  I  swan,  I  did.  I  was  too 
far  down  in  the  heel  to  ketch  sight  c'  the  varmints. 
But  my  being  so  backward  about  starting  —  and  the 
blameful  creatur's  did  pester  me  —  I  say,  this  very 
laggardness  o'  mine  was  the  means  o'  bringing  a 
leetle  intelligence  with  me,  which  might  otherwise 
have  been  lost,  if  you  can  lose  that  which  you  ne'er 
have.  A  boat-load  o'  the  painted  and  plumed 
heathens  left  Grand  Pr^  just  behind  me." 

"  Started  for  Main-i-Dieu  }  " 

"  I  have  good  reason  for  believing  Basil  Le  Noir 
is  with  'em,  and  that  is  the  best  kind  o'  carcumstan- 
tial  evidence  that  they  have.  Hast  any  plan  to  car- 
cumvent  the  heathen  >  " 

"  If  I  had  one,  your  news  has  changed  it.  Seeing 
we  cannot  get  in  ahead  of  all  the  red  imps  and  their 
white  allies,  perhaps  we  had  better  let  the  Le  Noir 
party  pass  us,  and  then  fall  in  behind." 

"Which  sounds  like  an  ol'  man's  'vice,  and  not 
that  o'  a  youngster  fired  with  the  hot  blood  o'  youth. 
It  be  to  your  credit,  Rob,  but  there  be  personal 
p'ints  in  this  matter,  which  are  well  to  consider.  In 
the  fust  place,  it  is  ne'er  safe  to  count  on  an  inemy  in 
front,  especially  when  your  time  is  limited.  With 
these  two  boats  in  our  lead  it  might  puzzle  us  to 
make  the  Subenacadie  as  soon  as  we  would  like. 
We  must  pass  ol'  Fort  Alliance  afore  the  alarm  gets 
there  o'  our  flight.     Then,  too,  I  have  reasons  for 


-I 


140 


THE    YOUNG    GUNDEAtiER. 


believing  that  other  boats  will  follow  the  dark-skinned 
maker  o'  war-wecpons,  and  then  we  should  be  caught 
atween  'em  like  a  wedge  in  a  log  o'  wood." 

"  Your  plar  ? "  asked  Rob,  waiting  patiently,  and 
with  apparent  indifference,  though  this  showed  no 
lack  of  faith  in  his  companion. 

"  The  party  behind  us  is  not  likely  to  get  along 
for  a  goodish  spell,  seeing  I  have  been  playing  no 
childish  game  in  coming  up  here.  If  you  should 
return  to  the  Petite  for  the  others  as  soon  as  may  be, 
I  jedge  we  can  run  into  the  Subenacadie  ahead  o' 
Le  Noir's  Judas  gang." 

"  How  about  the  canoe  in  front .'  "  asked  Rob. 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  lad,  leave  that  to  me.  I've  a 
leetle  amazement  to  offer  'em,  and  if  they  'cept,  — 
mind  you,  1  say  if  they  'cept,  and  ai?  Indian  is  like  a 
coquettish  woman,  —  we  shall  skip  into  the  Suben- 
acadie as  brisk  as  a  squirrel.  But  see !  the  mist  is 
lifting.  It  will  soon  be  clear,  and  then  there  will  be 
no  kiver  for  us.  Mind  you  how  the  wind  comes  up 
the  strait.'  That  tells  why  we  hear  the  dusky 
heathens  so  well  in  front,  while  there  is  leetle  likeli- 
hood o'  they  hearing  us,  unless  we  go  bawling  round 
like  two  loons,  which  in  common  sense  we  are  not 
going  to  do.  The  bay  is  growing  rougher  every 
minnit.  A  storm  is  rising.  So,  all  in  all,  we  can 
ne'er  get  up  to  Cobequid  any  too  soon." 

Without  further  words,  the  Woodranger  began  to 


-tft-- 


HO IV  ROb   hOUND    THE    WOODRANGER.       141 

paddle  away  into  the  gloom,  his  form  soon  disappear- 
ing in  the  mist.  Rob  headed  his  canoe  toward  the 
Petite  and  fifteen  minutes  later  reached  the  rendez- 
vous of  his  friends,  just  as  they  were  about  to  start 
in  search  of  him.  The  news  that  the  Woodranger 
had  come  to  their  assistance  was  hailed  with  joy,  and 
no  time  was  lost  in  getting  ready  to  start. 

The  light  canoe  w.is  again  secured  astern,  and,  as 
they  moved  silently  down  the  stream,  Rob  explained 
to  his  companions  the  plan  of  the  forester,  by  which 
it  was  hoped  the  passage  up  the  bay  could  be  made 
successfully.  Rob  took  his  accustomed  place  in  the 
bow,  while  Jean  stationed  himself  at  the  stern,  and 
Alex,  who  counted  himself  a  man  in  the  work  of 
propelling  the  canoe,  took  his  position  near  the 
middle. 

Mr.  Briant  complained  because  he  was  not  able  to 
lend  his  assistance,  but,  as  it  was  already  becoming 
light,  he  and  Mrs.  Briant,  with  the  bright  eyes  of  Mab 
to  assist,  established  a  lookout  fore  and  aft.  In  this 
way  they  did  more  good  then  they  anticipated  in  the 
stern  chase  which  was  to  follow. 

As  they  sped  on,  the  mist  cleared  away  faster  and 
faster,  so  the  view  was  broadening  each  moment, 
making  the  watchers  keenly  alive  to  their  importance. 
When  this  gradual  breaking  away  of  the  gray  gloom 
of  early  morning  had  progressed  to  a  certain  extent, 
a  sudden  tran -formation  took  place.     It  seemed  as  if 


i 


J 


142 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEAKER. 


the  curtain  of  darkness  had  been  swiftly  raised  by  an 
invisible  hand,  and  a  flood  of  light  thrown  over  the 
scene  with  a  brightness  that  for  a  moment  dazzled 
the  beholders. 

On  their  left  the  waters  of  Minas  Basin  lay  throb- 
bing in  the  new  light,  moaning  like  a  child  sobbing 
in  its  sleep.  On  the  right  the  vast  forest  of  that 
region  stretched  farther  than  the  eye  could  span, 
crowned  in  the  far  distance  by  the  circular  crest  of 
Mount  Ardois. 

But  the  little  party  had  slight  interest  in  these 
surroundings,  but  anxiously  looked  for  a  sight  of 
their  enemies.  In  this  respect  two  discoveries  were 
made  simultaneously,  both  of  which  boded  them  ill. 
Mrs.  Briant,  from  her  position  in  the  bow,  was  the 
first  to  announce : 

"  I  can  see  a  canoe  ahead,  containing  five  or  six 
Indians.  Yes ;  and  in  front  of  that,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, is  another  canoe,  with  one  person  in  it.  He 
seems  to  be  pursued  by  the  other  party." 

"The  Woodranger,"  said  Rob.  "He  has  suc- 
ceeded in  passing  the  reds ;  he  will  lead  them  a  lively 
race,  and  keep  ti.eir  attention  from  us." 

"There  is  another  canoe  behind  us!"  declared 
Briant,  "  and  I  can  count  six  in  it.  They  are  this 
side  of  the  Petite.     Ha !  they  have  discovered  us." 

"And  look,  father!"  cried  Mab,  "there  comes 
another  canoe  behind  the  first.    It  is  filled  with  men." 


I. 


aOW  ROB  FOUND    THE   WOOD  RANGER.       143 

"  You  are  right,  my  child,"  said  the  Acadian  ran- 
ger, with  a  troubled  look  upon  his  countenance.  «'  It 
looks  as  if  that,  too,  was  filled  with  Indians.  The 
prospect  looks  dark  for  us." 

"  We  are  between  two  fires  I  "  said  Jean  Vallie,  as 
he  bent  to  his  work  with  redoubled  vigour.  '<  How 
we  shall  come  out  is  past  my  foretelling ;  but  at  any 
rate,  we  will  do  our  best." 

"  The  Indians  in  the  canoe  ahead  are  preparing  to 
fire  on  the  Woodranger,"  said  Mrs.  Briant,  excitedly. 
"  They  are  within  short  range,  too.  There  goes  their 
first  volley,"  and  the  mingle  of  reports  of  three  or 
four  guns  were  heard  by  the  fugitives. 


L 


.-■amammHf^^        ■■■* 


CHAPTER   XV. 


A    STORMY    FLIGHT. 


Mrs.  Briant  watched  intently  the  scene  ahead, 
until  the  smoke  of  the  firearms  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemies  had  cleared  away,  when  she  said,  joyously : 

"  The  man  does  not  seem  to  be  hurt,  but  I  do 
believe  the  Indians  are  gaining  on  him." 

"  That  may  be  a  trick  ot  the  Woodranger,"  said 
Rob.  "  No  Micmac,  I'll  warrant,  has  a  gun  that  can 
throw  a  piece  of  lead  as  far  as  old  Danger,  and  the 
Woodranger  knows  when  to  use  it  better  than  any 
other  man." 

"  But  there  are  five  or  six  in  the  other  canoe,  and 
every  man  seems  to  have  a  paddle." 

"  There  is  the  weight  of  a  body  for  every  pair  of 
arms,"  replied  ;  ob.  "The  arms  of  the  Woodranger 
have  sinews  as  tough  as  seasoned  oak.  The  Wood- 
ranger will  take  care  of  himself  against  any  number 
of  red  or  French  enemies.  How  is  it  with  those 
behind  us  ? " 

"  I  believe  they  are  gaining  on  us,"  replied  Briant, 
who,  though  he  had  not  missed  a  word  of  the  forego- 

144 


^m^^ 


i, 


ahead, 
of  the 
jusly : 
at  I  do 

iv,"  said 
that  can 
and  the 
nan  any 

loe,  and 

pair  of 
)dranger 
Wood- 
number 
1  those 

Briant, 
forego- 


A  STORMY  FLIGHT. 


'45 


ing  conversation,  had  been  anxiously  watching  ihcir 
pursuers.  "  Harlt !  there  is  their  reply  to  the  shots  of 
the  foremost  canoe." 

Ere  the  Acadian  ranger  had  finished  his  speech, 
the  war-cry  of  the  Micmacs  rang  out  over  the  waters 
of  Minas,  prolonged,  and  swelling  in  volume,  until  it 
seemed  to  issue  from  half  a  hundred  iron  throats. 
And  as  the  wild  notes  rose  and  fell  the  distant  cliffs 
caught  them  up,  sending  them  along  the  entire  line  of 
rocky  breastworks,  while  the  pine  forest  stretching 
away  to  the  south  flung  back  an  answering  appeal, 
which  was  repeated  over  and  over,  with  losing  force, 
until  the  whole  died  away  in  the  extreme  distance. 

These  cries  were  nothing  new  to  Wallace  Briant  or 
his  faithful  friend,  Jean  Vallie,  and  it  had  no  effect 
on  them.  If  it  was  the  first  time  Robert  Rogers  had 
listened  to  the  war-whoop  of  the  Micmac,  he  was  quite 
familiar  with  the  slogan  of  their  cousins,  the  St. 
Francis  Indians,  and  the  only  consequence  that  he 
showed  was  to  ply  his  paddle  with  renewed  power. 
If  Alex  was  for  a  moment  startled  by  the  terrible  cry, 
he  quickly  recovered,  and  kept  at  his  task  with  a 
resolute  will.  Mrs.  Briant  was  a  brave  woman,  and 
she  did  not  allow  her  gaze  to  leave  the  scene  ahead, 
while  she  folded  closely  to  her  the  quivering  form  of 
little  Mab,  who  alone  was  frightened  by  the  fierce  yell. 

The  war-cry  of  the  enemies  pu'suing  was  answered 
by  the  canoe  in  front,  though  with  less  vigour,  for 


146 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


I 


tl^ey  were  at  that  moment  very  much  occupied  in  car- 
ing for  their  single  foeman  in  front. 

Jean  Vallie  showed  his  utter  contempt  or  defiance 
for  the  outcries  of  their  enemies  by  beginning  to  sing, 
in  time  with  the  strokes  of  his  paddle,  the  stirring 
.jong  once  sung  by  a  certain  voyageur  in  the  wilds  of 
the  Ottawa.  This  daring  adventurer,  after  beuig  pur- 
sued by  a  war-party  of  Indians,  finally  sought  safety 
in  the  cavern  of  a  rocky  island  in  the  midst  of  one  of 
the  northern  lakes.  Hemmed  in  there  by  his  ene- 
mies, he  met  death  from  starvation  and  sleeplessness 
rather  than  come  forth  to  meet  his  fate  at  their 
hands.  Peeling  off  the  white  bark  of  a  bii  ch-tree,  he 
traced  on  it  v/ith  a  sharp-pointed  stick  in  the  juice  of 
some  berries  his  "  La  Coinplainte  de  Cadieux,"  a  death 
song  of  matchless  pathos  and  beauty.  This  was 
found  some  time  after  his  death,  and  became  one  of 
the  most  popular  songs  of  New  France. 

Both  Rob  and  Alex  quickly  caught  the  inspiration 
of  the  Basque's  defiant  song,  and  the  three  sent  the 
canoe  skimming  ever  the  waters  at  a  more  rapid  rate. 
But  Briant  soon  realised  that,  as  good  work  as  his 
friends  with  the  paddles  were  doing,  the  odds  were 
too  much  against  them  to  enable  them  to  hold  their 
own  with  the  pursuing  party.  A  look  of  stern  deter- 
mination came  over  his  sunburned  countenance ;  he 
reached  down,  and  lifted  from  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe  the  gun  belonghig  to  Robert  Rogers. 


A  STORMY  FLIGHT. 


147 


«'  Mine  is  somewhere  in  the  woods  around  Annap- 
olis," he  said.  "But  if  I  cannot  hold  a  paddle,  I 
can  show  you  that  my  finger  is  still  able  to  pull  the 
trigger,  and  that  my  eye  has  not  lost  its  keenness, 
when  an  enemy  is  the  target." 

"  The  Micmacs  are  gaining  on  the  Woodranger," 
declared  Mrs.  Priant,  a  tremor  apparent  in  her  voice. 
"They  mean  to  fire  at  him  again." 

The  next  moment  the  report  of  a  single  firearm 
rang  out  with  uncommon  clearness,  followed  almost 
instantly  by  a  piercing  yell. 

"  Old  Danger  !  "  exclaimed  Rob,  "  and  I'll  warrant 
there  is  one  red  the  less." 

As  he  spoke,  the  victim  of  the  forester's  shot,  after 
reeling  for  a  moment,  let  the  paddle  slip  away  from 
iiis  nerveless  hold,  and  dropped  into  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe.  A  yell  of  rage  came  from  his  companions 
at  his  fate,  and  three  of  the  survivors  quickly  seized 
their  firearms,  to  send  another  volley  after  the  auda- 
cious forester.  But,  as  Rob  Rogers  had  said,  their 
weapons  were  not  equal  to  the  long  range  of  the 
Woodranger's  trusty  "  Danger,"  and  their  shots  were 
fired  in  vain.  As  but  one  was  left  to  propel  the 
canoe,  this  instantly  slackened  its  speed.  Ignoring 
now  the  fugitives  following  in  their  track,  the  four 
were  intent  on  the  capture  or  death  of  their  single 
foeman  ahead.  With  a  smile  on  his  bronzed  features, 
the  Woodranger,  after  having  hastily  recharged  his 


-,]   '(■ 


ll  >f 


i- 


m 


■JiMms^L.:. 


148 


rif£    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


% 


faithful  weapon,  laid  it  at  his  feet,  and  was  again  send- 
ing his  canoe  over  the  water  like  a  bird  upon  wing. 

Meanwhile,  the  leading  canoe  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
Briant  party  had  continued  to  lessen  the  distance  be- 
tween them  and  the  fugitives.  The  Acadian  ranger 
noted  the  loss  of  each  foot  with  cool  precision,  while 
he  held  in  his  hands  Rob's  gun.  Finally,  when  he 
saw  two  of  their  enemies  exchange  their  paddles  for 
their  guns,  he  said  : 

"They  mean  to  try  a  couple  of  shots.  But  it  will 
be  a  waste  of  so  much  powder  and  speed,  for  their 
companions  will  miss  their  efforts.  He  must  be 
indeed  an  unerring  marksman  who  can  send  a  bullet 
home  from  a  canoe  tossed  in  such  a  wild  tide  as 
this." 

Two  ringing  reports,  two  dark  puffs  of  smoke,  re- 
plied to  Briant's  words,  but,  as  he  had  predicted,  the 
bullets  flew  wide  of  their  mark,  and  the  discomfited 
marksmen  resumed  tht'r  paddles.  Once  more  the 
canoe  of  the  Micmacs,  with  its  leeboard  down,  began 
to  overtake  the  fugitives.  Noting  carefully  this 
steady  loss  of  space,  Briant  began  to  calculate  how 
long  it  would  take  them  to  come  within  fair  gun- 
range.  As  he  continued  his  watch  he  raised  the 
gun  three  or  four  times,  to  lower  it  each  time  with- 
out touching  ihe  trigger. 

"  Steer  away  from  the  shore,"  he  said,  finally.  "  If 
the  wind  continues  to  gain  in  ugliness  you  will  soon 


A   STORMY  FLIGHT. 


149 


have  all  you  can  do  to  manage  the  canoe,  let  alone 
dodging  the  enemy." 

Then  the  Acadian  ranger  laid  aside  Rob's  gun 
and  took  up  the  heavy,  clumsy  weapon  belonging  to 
Jean  Vallie.  Raising  the  hammer  of  this  ancient 
weapon,  he  held  it  ready  for  instant  use  when  the 
proper  moment  came.  He  had  not  long  to  wait,  for 
as  soon  as  the  pursuers  came  within  fair  gunshot  he 
saw  three  of  them  laying  down  their  paddles,  with  the 
evident  purpose  of  trying  again  their  skill  in  firing  at 
the  fugitives.  But  they  had  not  calculated  on  the 
result.  Before  they  had  laid  hands  on  their  weapons, 
the  big  gun  of  Jean's  belched  forth  its  cannon-like 
report,  recoiling  against  its  holder's  shoulder  with  a 
force  which  sent  nim  backward  at  the  feet  of  Alex. 

So  well  had  Briant  taken  aim  that  the  great  charge 
tore  a  big  rent  in  the  side  of  the  birchen  craft  close 
down  to  the  water's  edge.  Instead  of  trying  tc  shoot 
the  party  of  whites,  they  were  now  forced  to  look  to 
their  own  safety. 

"  That  puts  them  out  o'  the  race,"  declared  Briant, 
with  a  ring  of  triumph  in  his  voice,  as  he  raised  him- 
self up  into  his  former  position,  forgetting  his  pain 
in  the  excitement  >  the  situation.  •'  I  couldn't  have 
done  that  with  your  gun  Rob,"  he  said,  and  then, 
leavii  -•  the  discomfited  Micmacs  to  be  picked  up  by 
those  1  the  canoe  behind  ihem,  he  turned  his  atten- 
tion ah>   d. 


ISO 


7HE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


They  had  gained  considerably  on  the  canoe  in 
front,  while  the  Woodranger  was  still  leading  them 
at  a  tantalising  distance. 

"  If  I  could  put  a  hole  in  that  with  this  old  blun- 
derbuss, as  I  did  in  the  other,"  he  thought,  "  I 
wouldn't  mind  the  loss  of  powder.  But  the  distance 
is  too  great,  and  the  sea  grows  uglier  fast.  Aren't 
you  getting  tired,  Alex  }  " 

"  No,  father ;  I  can  hold  out  until  we  reach  the 
Subenacadie." 

"  Spare  yourself  all  you  can,  my  son.  It  is  not 
going  to  be  any  longer  a  matter  of  speed,  but  a  fight 
with  the  wind  and  tide,  I  wish  we  had  held  back 
and  not  attempted  the  passage  until  after  the  storm. 
Ha!  there  is  another  shot  from  the  Woo  1  ranger. 
Another  red  has  bitten  the  dust,  or  rather  foam.  I 
would  give  a  year  of  my  life  if  I  could  handle  a  gun 
like  him." 

Only  three  were  left  in  the  Micmac  canoe  ahead, 
and  these,  with  bitter  cries,  were  having  all  they 
could  do  to  keep  their  light  skiff  right  side  up,  so  for 
the  time  their  hated  foe  was  forgotten. 

By  this  time  the  wind  and  tide  were  giving  the 
three  at  the  paddles  all  they  could  do,  for  Minas 
Basin  under  the  influence  of  the  elements  becomes  a 
dangerous  course  for  light  crafts,  or  even  large 
vessels.  The  dark  clouds  of  early  morning  were 
beginning  to  keep  their  threat  of  rain,  and  the  roll 


(5*..  . 


STORMY  FLIGHT. 

of  distant  thunder  was  heard  sullenly  above  the  roar 
of  the  tide.  Mrs.  Briant,  who  had  shown  remarkable 
fortitude  through  the  trying  scenes  just  passed,  now 
looked  pale  and  hopeless,  while  she  clasped  closer 
than  ever  to  her  breast  the  frightened  Mab.  Rob, 
Jean,  and  Alex  were  all  doing  their  utmost  to  keep 
the  frail  boat  afloat  among  the  seething  waters. 

Briant  alone  of  the  little  party  was  able  to  note 
their  surroundings,  and  the  furious  rapidity  with 
which  the  storm  was  coming  on.  He  saw  that  the 
Woodranger  had  made  away  from  the  shore  consider- 
ably, while  the  Micmacs  were  still  hugging  close  in 
toward  the  rocky  beach,  over  which  the  waves  broke 
and  tossed  with  a  fury  that  was  appalling. 

When,  a  little  later,  a  rugged  point  of  land  was 
discovered  ahead,  thrusting  a  sharp  nose  out  into  the 
stormy  waters,  the  reason  for  the  change  made  by 
the  Woodranger  in  his  course  was  apparent.  They 
were  approaching  Tenny  Cape.  The  canoe  of  the 
Woodranger  was  being  tossed  like  a  cockle-shell  on 
the  wild  tide,  while  that  of  the  three  Micmacs  was 
having  an  even  harder  struggle  with  the  warring  ele- 
ments, on  account  of  having  kept  in  closer  to  the 
land. 

This  was  seen  by  Briant  only,  as  his  companions 
were  all  occupied  with  other  matters.  The  three  at 
the  paddles  were  called  upon  to  do  all  in  their  power 
to  keep  the  boat  up  against  wind  and  wave,  while 


■■-.u  .AWdKMCu 


153 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  were  locked  in  each  other's 
arms,  awed  into  silence  by  the  sublimity  of  the  scene 
around  them.  The  Acadian  ranger,  having  seen 
that  the  enemy  behind  them  had  dropped  out  of 
sight,  was  now  watching  closely  the  action  of  those 
in  front. 

He  saw  that  these  were  steering  farther  out  from 
the  point  of  land.  In  the  midst  of  their  struggles  a 
report  from  the  Woodranger  rang  faintly  above  the 
storm,  and  one  of  the  savages  sprang  up,  to  fall  over 
upon  one  of  his  companions,  with  the  result  that  the 
canoe  was  quickly  capsized,  and  the  occupants  found 
themselves  battling  with  the  waves. 

"  Good  for  the  Woodranger ! "  cried  Briant,  joy- 
ously. "  The  coast  is  now  clear  for  us,  boys ;  but, 
ha  !   what  is  this  >.     The  boat  has  sprung  a  leak !  " 

The  truth  of  this  startling  statement  was  quickly 
apparent,  and  Briant,  forgetful  of  his  wounds,  began 
to  bail  out  the  water,  Mrs.  Briant  assisting  him. 
Their  efforts  for  a  time  proved  successful,  but  the 
leak  grew  worse,  in  spite  of  all  they  could  do,  so  that 
Briant  finally  said : 

"  You  had  better  put  in  at  Noel  Inlet,  just  above 
here.  It  will  be  folly  for  us  to  try  and  keep  on,  even 
if  the  boat  was  in  better  shape.  I  have  a  friend  hv- 
ing  near  the  bay,  where  I  can  stop  with  Mrs.  Briant 
and  Mab.  Perhaps  the  rest  of  you  can  mend  the 
boat  by  the  time  the  storm  wears  out,  when,  if  you 


A   STOKMV  FLIGHT. 


153 


think  best,  we  can  start  again.  The  Woodranger 
has  worsted  the  Micmacs,  so  I  do  not  believe  we 
have  anything  to  fear  from  them.  Certainly  not 
until  those  behind  come  up.  This  they  cannot  do 
in  the  tee';h  of  this  storm." 

Rob  and  Jean  agreed  to  this  proposition  gladly, 
and  the  boat  was  steered  for  the  bay,  while  the  bail- 
ing was  continued. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


SEEKING   SHELTER. 


Noel  Inlet,  or  bay  as  it  is  now  called,  is  a  broad 
arm  of  Minas  thrust  deep  into  the  shore,  and  as  the 
fugitives  reached  its  more  sheltered  waters  the  boat 
escaped  to  a  great  extent  the  fury  of  the  storm,  and 
for  the  first  time  since  they  had  begun  to  approach 
Tenny  Point  the  little  party  of  fugitives  drew  a 
breath  of  relief.  Alex,  assisted  by  such  help  as  his 
father  could  give,  was  kept  as  busy  as  ever  bailing 
out  the  water  from  the  leaking  boat,  but  the  realisa- 
tion that  safety  was  so  near  at  hand  gave  him 
strength.  Mrs.  Briant  looked  hopefully  around, 
while  Mab  ceased  her  sobbing,  and  showed  the  brave 
spirit  she  really  possessed.  Then  Mrs.  Briant  took 
a  turn  at  dipping  out  the  water,  in  order  that  her 
husband  might  rest.     Presently  he  said  : 

"The  Woodranger  is  hovering  near  the  mouth  of 
the  creek ;   hadn't  we  better  signal  hira  > " 

"I  think  he  understands  our  intentions,"  replied 
Rob.  "  He  will  follow  us  if  he  thinks  best ;  if  not, 
he  will  remain  behind  to  keep  an  eye  out  for  pursuit." 

>S4 


mtmm^m 


"m^. 


SEEKING  SHELTER. 


155 


replied 

if  not, 

jursuit." 


After  watching  the  forester,  whose  form  was  grow- 
ing smaller  each  moment,  the  Acadian  ranger  said : 

"  I  think  you  are  right.  Put  in  toward  the  landing 
on  our  left,  Jean.     I  want  to  find  Louis  Beauchamp." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  boat  scraped  on  the  bot- 
tom, and  then  rested  firm  and  fast  at  the  water's 
edge.  The  rain  was  now  falling  in  a  shower,  but  the 
place  was  somewhat  protected  from  the  wind,  and 
the  little  party  felt  like  returning  thanks  for  this 
temporary  haven. 

"  You  have  done  well,  boys,"  declared  Briant,  "and 
I  know  you  are  as  glad  as  the  rest  of  us  to  get  here. 
You  know  Louis  Beauchamp,  Jean.?" 

"  For  a  true-hearted,  whole-souled  man.  You  will 
be  safe  with  him  for  a  few  days." 

"  Our  stay  with  him  must  be  short.  But  I  thought 
Y'KVf  and  Mab  could  find  shelter  until  the  storm 
passes  over.  In  the  meantime,  perhaps  you  and 
Rob  can  repair  the  boat.  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  help 
you." 

"  You  have  got  the  worst  of  it  so  far,"  replied 
Jean.  "But  there  is  no  need  of  your  staying  here 
in  this  pelting  rain  and  wind.  It  is  but  a  short  dis- 
tance to  the  home  of  Louis,  and  we  will  get  you 
there  all  right.  We  shall  lose  nothing  by  waiting 
until  after  the  storm  has  spent  its  fury.  If  I  mis- 
take not,  the  Micmacs  have  suffered  as  much  by  it 
a.s  we." 


156 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


i 


"  I  am  going  to  agree  with  you,  Jean,  in  all  you 
say.  I  can't  do  any  better.  I  think  with  your  aid  and 
Alex's  I  can  reach  Louis's  home.  I  wish  you,  Rob, 
would  take  Jean's  canoe  and  go  after  the  Wood- 
ranger.  Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  at  the  house  of 
Louis  Beauchamp  both  on  business  and  pleasure. 
The  business  is  important." 

"  I  will  gladly  find  the  Woodranger,"  replied  Rob, 
"  but  I  do  not  believe  he  will  go  to  the  house.  There 
is  need  that  he  and  I  should  get  on  toward  Main-i- 
Dieu  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  regret  that  I  am  hindering  you. 
But  even  if  you  were  to  leave  me  here,  there  is  a 
matter  I  must  speak  of  to  you  both.  It  won't  take 
you  long  to  feti.  lim.  I  will  wait  here  in  the  boat 
until  you  and  he  come." 

"  Very  well ;  but  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  keep 
Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  waiting  here  in  this  rain.  Let 
them  go  on  to  the  home  of  your  friend.  Alex  can 
go  with  them.  I  will  return  with  the  Woodranger  in 
a  short  time." 

"You  are  right,  Rob;  Mary  and  Mab  must  go 
on  to  the  house.  Fetch  the  Woodranger  as  soon  as 
you  can,  for  I  feel  that  every  moment's  delay  means 
much.  The  danger  which  threatens  New  England, 
as  well  as  Acadia,  is  too  grave  to  admit  of  any  one 
shirking  his  duty.  Now  that  I  am  so  helpless,  I 
must  depend  on  others  to  do  what  I  had  intended 


S£EA'/A'G  SNELrf:R. 


•57 


all  you 
aid  and 
11,  Rob, 
Wood- 
ouse  of 
leasure. 

^  Rob, 
There 

Main-il- 

ing  you. 
lere  is  a 
jn't  take 
the  boat 

r  to  keep 

Let 

kx  can 

ranger  in 

must  go 
soon  as 

ly  means 
ingland, 
any  one 
pless,  I 
intended 


in. 


to  perform.  Ay,  the  French  shall  yet  rue  the  day 
they  loaned  me  that  bit  of  lead.  It  shall  be  paid 
back.  You  have  heard  what  our  friend  has  s„  d, 
Mary,  have  you  any  fear  about  going  on  to  Louis 
Beauchamp's  without  Jean  and  me .' " 

"  No,  Wallace ;  but  you  must  promise  to  be  care- 
ful of  yourself.     I  am  so  —  " 

"  Tut  —  tut,  good  wife  I  you  know  I  am  used  to 
this  sort  of  thing.  Come,  Alex,  help  your  mother 
and  Mab  on  their  way." 

By  this  time  Rob  had  untied  Jean's  canoe  from 
the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  as  Mrs.  Briant,  Alex,  and 
Mab  started  away  from  the  place,  he  paddled  swiftly 
down  the  bay  in  quest  of  the  Woodrangei.  As  he 
had  expected,  he  found  the  latter  lying  off  the  shore 
just  above  the  mouth  of  the  Noel  estuary,  out  of 
sight  of  the  landing-place  of  the  boat,  on  account 
of  the  fringe  of  forest  that  skirted  the  shore  for 
many  miles.  When  Rob  advised  his  companion  of 
Briant 's  wishes,  the  forester  shook  his  head,  saying ; 

"  I  ne'er  dissemble,  lad ;  I  have  no  eagerness  to 
meet  the  man.  And  I  cannot  previcate  enough  to 
say  that  I  like  this  delay.  Our  duty  lies  away 
to  Main-i-Dieu.  And  then  New  England  must 
be  awakened  to  her  peril.  Mind  you,  I  say  this 
without  being  unmindful  of  the  interests  of  Major 
Vaughan.  There  be  much  for  us  to  do,  lad,  and 
delays  are  but  cross-trails  o'  evil." 


m 


158 


r//A    YOUNG   GUNBEAREK. 


But  when  Rob  had  described  the  leak  in  the 
boat,  and  the  necessity  of  its  repair,  the  Woodranger 
quickly  overcame  the  doubts  he  had  shown. 

"  Mebbe  I  was  not  dis  reet,  lad,  seeing  I  set  the 
stick  afore  I  had  read  the  sign.  The  storm  be  an 
ugly  one,  ne'er  fitting  for  a  woman  and  leetle  girl  to 
be  its  playthings.  So  we  will  tarry  here  till  it  has 
spent  its  fury  like  a  painter  that  scents  human 
blood." 

"  You  will  go  back  with  me  to  see  and  talk  with 
Briant .'  He  seems  very  anxious  to  see  you.  I  had 
him  .send  the  woman  and  girl  ahead  to  this  Beau- 
champ's  home." 

"  You  did  that,  lad,  did  you  ?  And  they  minded 
sich  discretion } " 

"  Yes,  Woodranger.  We  are  losing  valuable  time, 
to  say  nothing  of  keeping  him  exposed  to  the  storm. 
He  is  waiting  at  the  boat,  alone  with  his  Basque 
friend,  Jean  Vallie." 

"  I  mind  your  wishes,  lad,  I  do.  But  now's  me, 
an  ol'  man's  fancy  be,  after  all,  safer  counsel  than  the 
logic  0'  a  young  heart.  And  she  be  gone .'  Mebbe 
I'll  run  in  with  you,  and  if  the  indiscretion  work 
harm  'twill  be  an  ol'  man's  fault,  and  he  must 
suffer." 

They  found  Briant  awaiting  them  with  no  disguise 
over  his  anxiety  to  meet  them. 

"  You  have  been  very  kind  —  " 


SEEA'/ATO   Sf/KLTER. 


»59 


in    the 
iranger 

set  the 
1  be  an 
:  girl  to 
1  it  has 
human 

alk  with 

I  had 

is  Beau- 

■  minded 

ble  time, 
le  storm. 
Basque 

ow's  me, 

than  the 

Mebbe 

ion  work 

le  must 

disguise 


The  Woodranger  checked  the  speech  with  a  wave 
of  his  hand,  saying  : 

"  If  it  be  for  no  more  than  that  we've  come  up 
here,  I  shall  count  it  a  blameful  loss  o'  time,  seeing 
two  score  o'  human  lives  are  calling  us  to  Main-i- 
Dieu." 

"  Forgive  me,  Woodranger.  I  will  come  to  my 
purjwse  at  once.  You  say  forty  lives  are  in  peril 
at  Main4-Dieu.  I  have  a  more  fearful  statement  to 
make  than  that.  I  think  you  have  learned  something 
of  what  I  mean  from  the  talk  of  the  Dark  Abb6, 
which  you  overheard  in  Basil  le  Noir's  smithy." 

As  the  forester  made  no  reply  to  this,  simply  bow- 
ing his  head,  as  if  in  acquiescence,  he  continued : 

"The  French  government,  through  their  tools  at 
home  and  in  Quebec,  are  planning  to  carry  out  a 
scheme  which  will  bring  desolation  and  suffering 
to  all  New  England.  Besides  arming  their  forces  at 
home,  for  the  purpose  of  driving  every  Englishman 
from  New  England  and  New  Soctland,  a  powerful 
fleet  of  vessels,  bearing  an  army  oi  soldiers,  is  now 
on  the  way  here  to  assist  in  this  wholesale  annihila- 
tion of  a  people." 

"You  lamed  this  in  Quebec.'"  asked  the  Wood- 
ranger, whose  attention  was  now  fixed  upon  the  other. 

"  I  did.  I  went  in  disguise  into  one  of  Intendant 
Bigot's  secret  conferences,  and  there  learned  the 
whole  infamous  plot." 


i6o 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"Which  showed  the  cunning  o'  a  master  hand. 
I  opine  the  news  have  not  been  spread." 

"  No —  no.  It  was  of  that  I  wished  to  speak  to 
you  and  the  boy  with  you.  He  is  a  brave  youth,  and 
if  you  two  are  specimens  of  New  England's  defenders, 
the  French  will  have  a  bigger  undertaking  on  hand 
than  they  calculate.  Pardon  me  for  saying  this.  I 
will  come  to  what  I  wished  to  say.  Before  I  had 
received  this  ugly  wound  I  was  intending  to  go  to 
Port  Glasgow,  which  is  a  few  miles  this  side  of 
Chedabucto  Bay  and  Cape  Canseau,  hoping  to  meet 
one  of  the  fishing-vessels  from  the  Banks  on  their 
return  to  New  England,  as  some  of  them  stop  there. 
In  that  way  I  hoped  to  get  the  news  to  Boston.  I 
have  friends  in  <^haf:  vicinity,  whom  I  wished  to  warn. 
It  is  necessary,  also,  that  every  settlement  of  English 
in  New  Scotland  should  be  warned.  Oh,  that  I 
should  be  so  helpless  in  the  midst  of  all  this  trouble  ! 
1  am  even  helpless  to  protect  my  own." 

"Were  there  no  crosses  to  bear,  there  would  be 
no  hearts  to  feel,  man,  no  hearts  to  feel,"  said  the 
Woodranger,  impressively.  "I  jedge  you  desire  us 
to  bear  this  news  to  Port  Glasgow  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  eagerly.  "  To  do  that,  and  see 
a  friend  of  mine  who  dwells  on  the  shore  of  Le 
Bras  d'Or,  in  the  heart  of  Isle  Royal.  I  do  not 
wish  you  to  undenate  the  undertaking.  You  must 
pass  through  the  country  of  the  Dark  Abba's  most 


tUHUl 


mtmmm 


lammmmmim 


S££A'/MG  SHELTER. 


I6l 


powerful  allies.  Your  most  direct  way  will  be  up 
Minas  Basin  to  Cobequid  Bay,  and  across  the  Su- 
benacadie  region.  This  river  is  the  great  highway  of 
the  Micmacs  in  coming  from  Chebucto  to  the  region 
of  the  Gaspereau.  I  need  not  tell  you  all  this,  as 
you  are  a  man  acquainted  with  the  secrets  of  the 
woods,  but  the  most  learned  are  those  who  are  the 
most  willing  to  listen  to  another's  counsel." 

"  It  be  true,  sir,  it  be  true.  I  am  not  advarse  to 
minding  another's  counsel.  And  my  stick  floats 
beside  yours." 

"That  means  you  will  undertake  this  stupendous 
journey .' "  asked  Briant,  earnestly. 

"  I  do  not  previcate  the  truth,  sir.  Rob  and  I  are 
bound  to  perambulate  back  to  our  own  camp-ground 
as  'arly  as  may  be.  I  can  see  it  will  be  well  for  us 
to  return  on  one  of  the  fishing-boats,  as  it  will  be 
our  quickest  way  to  get  where  we  seem  needed." 

"I  don't  wish  to  be  any  hindrance  in  your  way," 
said  Briant,  "and  if  you  think  better  you  can  go 
ahead,  a.s  soon  as  the  storm  abates.  No  boat  can 
live  in  such  a  gale  in  Cobequid,  While  the  boys 
mend  the  boat,  come  up  to  the  house  with  me,  and 
eat  and  rest  for  a  time.  You  must  have  food, 
and  after  your  long  and  —  " 

"  In  all  consistency  you  can  ne'er  know  what  you 
are  saying,  sir.  It  may  be  food  we  do  need,  but  that 
we  can  pick  up  as  we  go  on.     As  to  the  other,  I 


¥% 


--'^iVT^-i>%*\'0i^^<^MM','S''^^ii\i-^h':^li^^^ 


l62 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


ne'er  can  tell.  There'll  be  plenty  o'  rest  for  us  all, 
by  and  by,  but  somebody  has  got  to  be  astir  while 
the  war-cry  o'  the  Micmac  a.id  the  Abnaki  wakes 
the  homes  o'  New  England.  Nay,  sir,  go  to  thy 
shelter  as  soon  as  may  be ;  let  the  lads  mend  the 
boat ;  and  while  this  is  being  done  I  will  see  that  nc 
red  scout  passes  toward  Main-4-Dieu  by  this  water." 

The  others  quickly  saw  the  wisdom  of  the  Wood- 
ranger's  suggestion,  and  without  further  delay  Rob 
and  Jean  assisted  the  Acadian  ranger  from  the  boat. 
In  doing  this  they  were  obliged  to  accept  the  assist- 
ance of  the  forester,  for  Briant  found  it,  at  first, 
impossible  to  help  himself. 

"  I  shall  be  better  when  I  have  stirred  a  bit,"  he 
3aid,  hopefully.  Upo'i  ♦■caching  the  land,  he  did 
manage  to  walk  between  Rob  and  Jean,  and  when 
the  Woodranger  had  seen  them  fairly  started  he 
headed  his  canoe  toward  the  point  of  pines  jutting 
out  into  the  n.outh  of  the  estuary,  and  he  was  not 
seen  again  that  forenoon. 


M 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


THE    SIGNAL    OF    DANGER. 

The  storm  subsided  as  rapidly  as  it  had  arisen,  so 
that  by  the  noon  hour  there  were  signs  of  clearing 
weather.  Rob  and  Jean  had  worked  industriously 
upon  the  boat,  but  with  poor  results.  It  was  an  old 
affair,  and  the  materials  they  had  were  inadequate  to 
properly  repair  it. 

"  It  cannot  be  made  safe,"  declared  Jean.  "  I  wish 
we  had  another  canoe  like  mine." 

This  thought  had  been  in  Rob's  mind  half  the 
forenoon,  and  he  had  also  remembered  that  the 
Woodranger  had  a  canoe  with  him  which  would 
be  ample  provision  for  their  purpose.  But  out  of 
respect  to  the  feelings  of  his  friend,  he  had  said 
nothing  of  this  to  the  Basque,  though  he  had  con- 
cluded to  broach  the  matter  to  the  forester  as  soon 
as  he  should  reappear.  He  was  not  likely  to  have 
to  wait  much  longer  for  this  opportunity,  for  even 
as  Jean  spoke,  a  canoe,  containing  a  single  occupant, 
was  coming  swiftly  up  the  bay.  A  minute  later  both 
recognised  the  approaching  person  as  him  whom  they 
most  desired  to  see. 

163 


u 


si*Sai^~'^j^i,w^-iswfc''4-^J*:t3tlS-'W?fJ^^^ 


tvm 


isMr^ 


164 


r^E    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


"What  news,  Wood  ran  ger  ?"  asked  Rob,  as  the 
forester  reached  them. 

"  No  news  are  sometimes  the  best  o'  news,  lad," 
as  he  stepped  from  his  light  craft.  "  The  reds  nor 
painted  whites  have  ne'er  put  in  a  feather.  How 
soon  they  may  do  it,  now  the  storm  has  stopped 
kicking  the  bay  like  an  ol'  inemy,  it  would  not  be 
discreet  for  me  to  say.  I  opine  they'll  move  soon. 
I  jedge  the  boat  is  not  ready .'' " 

"  The  boat  is  not  seaw  arthy,  Woodranger,"  replied 
Rob.  "  At  least,  we  cannot  make  it  so  with  what  we 
have  to  work  with." 

"  I  s'pected  as  much,  I  swan  I  did,  lad.  Are  all 
to  go  —  I  mean  the  woman  and  leetle  gal .' " 

"It  will  not  do  for  them  to  remain  here.  What 
we  need  is  another  canoe,    •        iranger." 

'•  I  trust  you'll  think  it  no  great  claim  o'  mine  when 
I  say  that  I  see  it,  lad.  Mebbe  it'll  be  a  great  indis- 
cretio  1,  —  mind  you,  I  say  it  may,  —  but  here  is  ray 
canoe,  i^>tout  and  well-seasoned.  The  bay  be  getting 
good-natired,  and  there  be  personal  p'ints  why  we 
should  be  moving  soon.  Mebbe  it  could  be  arranged 
to  carry  all  on  both,"  he  added,  in  a  low  tone,  and 
apparently  addressing  himself  more  than  his  com- 
panions. Rob  wisely  remained  silent,  but  Jean  was 
prompted  to  £,ay : 

"With  your  canoe,  monsieur,  we  can  make  the 
Subenacadie  in  fine  shape.      You  and  I,  Rob,  can 


;:E51»w»<-«i^g3^ 


r" 


mm 


~\. 


THE  SIGNAL    OF  DANGER.  165 

take  Monsieur  Briant  in  our  canoe  and  go  ahead, 
while  the  others  can  follow  us.  You  see  I  am  better 
acquainted  with  the  route,"  seeing  that  this  plan 
instantly  brought  a  look  of  displeasure  upon  the  sun- 
bronzed  countenance  of  the  woodsman,  who  began  to 
look  anxiously  down  the  bay. 

"I  must  go,"  he  exclaimed,  bluntly.  "No  good 
sentinel  leaves  his  post  without  committing  a  blame- 
ful indiscretion.  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me,  Rob. 
'Tain't  often  the  ol'  man  shirks  his  duty,  but  I 
thought  a  moment  off  wouldn't  be  a  grievous  wrong ; 
but  I  see  my  conceit  made  my  jedgment  weak.  For- 
get an  ol'  man's  weakness,  and  I'll  ne'er  be  a  deserter 
ag'in." 

With  these  words,  to  the  surprise  of  Jean  Vallie 
and  the  confusion  of  Rob  Rogers,  the  Woodranger 
stepped  into  his  canoe,  and  sped  off  down  the  bay. 
Understanding  better  the  real  motive  for  this  singular 
action  on  the  part  of  his  friend,  Rob  was  the  first  to 
recover  his  presence  of  mind.  Quickly  pushing 
Jean's  canoe  away  from  the  bank,  without  a  word  to 
the  Basque,  he  caught  up  the  paddle,  and  sent  the 
light  craft  after  the  Woodranger.  Rob  made  such  a 
vigorous  pursuit  that,  before  the  forester  had  covered 
half  of  the  distance  to  the  Basin,  he  came  alongside 
of  the  other.  With  a  look  of  pain  rather  than  sur- 
prise on  his  features,  the  Woodranger  said : 

"  Forgive  me,  lad ;  it  was  a  blameful  indiscretion 


(iil 


I  I'll 


t    1  •  : 


.WftaaagsssKK? 


>":y,^^y.(aij^^gj^iJSyr^!gj^.-rypr;^i?^,)Mi^j_^ijg|^tj),''- 


M' 


1 66 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


o'  mine.  Mebbe  I  let  my  consarn  over  the  delay  in 
getting  ahead  blind  me  to  my  duty.  I  have  heerd  o' 
sich  things,  and  it  may  be  an  ol'  man  — " 

"It  was  not  that,  VVoodranger,"  interrupted  Rolx 
"No  Injun  could  have  passed  in  this  short  time. 
But  every  moment  is  precious  to  us  now.  But  what 
I  wanted  to  say,  VVoodranger,  was  in  regard  to  the 
boat.  It  is  not  fit  to  go  on  with.  Even  if  it  held 
together,  in  the  small  streams  which  we  must  follow 
the  canoes  would  be  much  better.  Is  not  that  so, 
Woodranger } " 

"  Ay,  lad  ;  you  are  ol'  in  woodcraft  beyond  your 
years,  t  had  trail'  d  that  thought,  lad,  I  had,  when 
that  blam  id  ijit  fired  his  shot  into  the  bresh  hap- 
hazard like.  Mebbe  I  fluttered  too  quick,  lad,  but, 
alack !  now's  me,  what  be  I  saying  ?  You  have 
some  plan,  lad  ? " 

"  I  have  come  to  get  yours,  Woodranger.  We've 
no  time  to  delay  over  simple  differences.  There  are 
many  lives  at  stake,  Woodranger." 

"Ay,  many  lives,  lad,  and  that  what  is  dearer  yet, 
though  you  may  not  know.  Alack  !  hear  me  running 
on  like  a  foolish  brook  babbling  o'  what  in  all  con- 
sistency I  cannot  know  But  it  am  true,  lad,  that  an 
ol'  man's  hea^  grows  light,  while  his  feet  grow  heavy. 
Now  that  you  nave  brought  me  to  ray  shallow  wits,  I 
wffl  untie  the  knots  I  had  in  my  string.  In  the  first 
place,  it  t»  not  a  discreet  act  to  leave  this  run  exposed 


!^:, 


THE  SIGNAL    OF  DANGER. 


167 


to  the  inemy,  to  slip  past  at  their  fancy.  While  I 
remain  here,  promising  not  to  desart  my  post  ag'in, 
how  long  will  it  take  you  to  fetch  the  wounded 
Scotchman  and  his  boy  down  here  in  your  canoe  ? " 

"Not  over  half  an  hour,  Woodranger." 

"I  opined  as  much.  If  you'll  do  it,  lad,  I  will 
then  taKC  them  in  my  canoe,  and  with  the  boy  to 
help  me  somewhat,  if  I  need,  —  and  I  notxed  he  was 
a  lusty  chap,  —  I  will  lead  the  way  up  to  the  Subena- 
cadie,  and  if  the  garrison  be  passed  enter  the  Stewi- 
acke.     You  can  follow  with  the  others." 

"The  very  best  plan  we  can  carry  out,  Wood- 
ranger,  and  I  will  get  Briant  and  Ale::  here  as  quick 
as  possible." 

"  I  know  it,  lad.  But  there  be  one  p'int  more  to 
settle  —  a  personal  p'int.  You'll  be  discreet  in  not 
fetching  your  canoe  tu*  near  mine?  Durst  under- 
stand, lad,  I'll  be  on  hand  to  succour  you  in  case  0' 
need,  but  not  for  you  to  come  inc^creetly  near. 
You  understand  my  sign,  lad.i'*' 

"I  do,   Woodranger,  and   I  will  remember  your 
wishes.  You  can  trust  me." 
"I  know  it,  lad." 

The  next  moment  Rob  was  returning  up  the 
estuary  to  where  Jean  Vallie  was  impatiently  await- 
ing him,  and,  upon  reaching  the  Basque,  the  two 
lost  no  thue  in  hastening  to  the  home  of  Louis 
Beauchamp,   where   they   found    the   fugitives   anx- 


''^^^^^ml^'^M^^^^ti^'  -• 


^   ^ 


1 68 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEAPER. 


iously  looking  for  them.  The  plan  was  quickly 
accepted  by  them,  and  inside  of  thirty  minutes  from 
the  time  he  had  left  him  Rob  was  back  beside 
the  Woodranger,  accompanied  by  Briant  and  Alex. 
It  required  the  united  efforts  of  all  to  assist  the 
former  from  one  canoe  into  the  other,  and  then 
he  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  birchen  skiff  quite 
helpless. 

"I  shall  make  for  the  Subenacadie,  lad,  and  I 
know  that  you'll  follow  with  due  discretion.  Remem- 
ber the  whistle  o'  the  catbird." 

A  minute  later  the  Woodranger  was  paddling 
briskly  up  Minas  Basin  toward  Cobequid  Bay,  Alex 
lending  his  assistance,  while  his  father  looked  back 
toward  Noel  Inlet,  not  without  many  misgivings  over 
the  fate  of  those  he  had  left  behind. 

"  You'd  chide  me  for  telling  you  to  keep  a  good 
lookout  for  the  inemy,"  said  the  Woodranger,  as  the 
passage  was  begun  over  the  choppy  tide,  for,  though 
the  storm  had  cleared  away,  the  bay  was  still  greatly 
disturbed.  At  times  the  canoe  was  tossed  furiously 
on  the  crest  of  some  foam-flecked  wave,  and  it  must 
have  upset  under  the  management  of  a  less  experi- 
enced hand  than  that  of  the  forester. 

"I  will  keep  my  eyes  open,"  replied  Briant,  "both 
fore  and  aft.  I  do  not  see  any  sign  of  them  now. 
Have  you  reason  for  thinking  any  of  them  have 
passed  us .? " 


"!■ 


THE  SIGNAL    OF  DANGER. 


169 


"  The  inemy  from  Grand  Pr^  are  behind  us  ;  there 
may  be  others  ahead.  I'm  not  gifted  with  the  wis- 
dom to  tell." 

Nothing  more  was  said,  while  the  little  party 
moved  swiftly  on  toward  the  Subenacadie,  the 
Woodranger  plying  his  paddle  with  an  arm  that 
never  seemed  to  tire.  Twice  Briant  had  caught 
sight  of  a  canoe  in  their  wake,  which  he  had  been 
confident  was  that  of  their  friends.  Nothing  had 
been  seen  of  the  French  or  their  Indian  allies. 
They  had  now  entered  Cobequid  Bay,  and  were 
drawing  near  the  Subenacadie  River.  The  Wood- 
ranger,  who  had  been  paddling  somewhat  leisurely 
for  some  time,  now  ceased  his  efforts,  saying  to 
Alex : 

"  Rest,  lad ;  you  have  shown  amazing  strength  for 
one  of  thy  years.  It  may  be  an  act  o'  indiscretion 
to  enter  the  river  afore  sundown,  seeing  we  are  then 
going  to  be  environed  by  woods  where  some  sneaking 
Micmac  spy  may  be  lurking.  The  sun  be  a  good 
hand's  span  above  the  tree-tops.  Hast  seen  the 
othei  canoe,  Mend  Uriant,  of  late?" 

"  Not  for  half  an  hour,  Woodranger  /f  might  be 
well  for  us  to  drift  along  slowly  mA\\  they  <  m  come 
up.  Making  the  Subenacadie  wil!  be  running  the 
gauntlet  of  the  reds  from  Chebucto.  Were  the  reds 
arming,  up  your  way,  Woodranger .'  " 

"  Not  when  Rob  and  I  come  away,  but  how  soon 


'ii 

') 

lit 


J 


170 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


the  tarm  o'  peace  will  break  there  I  can  ne'er  tell. 
The  silence  will  not  be  overlong." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  anxious  to  get  back  to  your 
family  and  friends  ?  " 

The  bearded  lips  of  the  Woodranger  patted  with 
a  motion  of  silent  mirth,  though  his  fealurei  showed 
little,  if  any,  of  the  spirit  of  pleasure. 

"  I  trust  I  am  always  with  friends,"  \vi  idSA,  "  As 
to  my  family,  I  do  not  think  I  previca-  e  the  great 
truth  —  mind  you  I  say  this,  knowing  what  no  one 
else  can  know  —  I  have  no  lamily,  unless  a  heart 
that  can  feel  for  all  mankind  can  be  considered  a 
family." 

"  Would  there  were  more  like  you  in  this  world  !  " 
said  Briant,  fervently  clasping  the  forester's  hand  in 
a  warm  hold,  though  the  effort  cost  him  great  pain 
from  his  wound.  "I  have  been  thinking  over  what 
you  said  to  me  this  morning,  —  '  Were  there  no 
crosses  to  bear  there  would  be  no  hearts  to  feel.' 
Truer  words  were  never  spoken.  Like  myself,  I  am 
sure  you  came  from  old  Scotland." 

««No  —  no!"  exclaimed  the  Woodranger.  fixing 
his  gaze  on  the  shore  ahead.  "  It  may  be  some  of 
my  kin  did.  Now  that  you  have  called  my  attention 
to  it,  I  do  remember  something  of  the  kind.  If 
you'll  forgive  an  ol'  man's  weakness,  I'm  minded  to 
ask  how  long  you  have  been  in  this  country .'' " 

"  Mary  and  I  came  when  Alex  was  a  small  boy, 


THE  S/GXAL   Oh   DAAOEK. 


171 


and  before  Mab  was  bom.     I  need  not  tell  you  that 
there  were  troublesome  days  at  home. 

"After  having  been  driven  out  of  England  and 
defeated  m  Ireland,  James  the  Second  urned  to  the 
Highlanders  of  Scotland  for  help.  1  he  deposed 
king  sent  trusty  messengers  among  them,  carrying 
the  fiery  cross  from  glen  to  glen  and  clan  to  clan, 
according  to  the  practice  of  the  chiets  of  the  race 
when  they  wished  to  arouse  their  followers  to  battle. 
These  hardy  allies  waged  a  distressing  warfare  for 
two  years,  but  finally  William  of  Orange  was  every- 
where victorious,  and  the  chiefs  of  the  various  ciins 
gladly  signed  papers  of  fealty  to  the  new  power. 

"There  was  one  exception  to  this  rule,  the  stal- 
wart chieftain  of  Glencoe,  Robert  MacDonald.  He 
hesitated  until  on  the  morning  of  the  last  day  allowed 
for  the  signing  of  the  paper,  when  he  set  forth  to 
fulfll  its  conditions.  Unfortunately  for  the  proud 
chief,  he  reached  the  town  to  find  the  proper  official 
away,  and  the  officer  in  charge  claimed  that  he  had 
no  authority  to  administer  the  oath.  It  was  the  last 
hour  of  grace,  but  in  his  disappointment  the  old 
Highlander  set  out  across  the  snow-covered  moun- 
tain in  midwinter  to  find  the  sheriff  of  Inverary. 
This  officer  gladly  administered  the  obligation  to 
MacDonald,  but  it  was  then  a  week  -^fter  the 
appointed  time.  The  situation  was  misrej  resented 
to  the  king,  and  an  order  was  sent  back  for  the 


■.,.  -J.  insWJU.  ti*li^,?£i*.-t 


w 


m 


,'»u 


e>. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■  50 

Hi 


12.5 


1.4 


2.2 


2.0 


1.8 


!l.6 


#: 


W^ 


.<^ 


/ 


^ 


<    /^.y. 

4 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


^^ 


,\ 


«■ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTEt{,N.^.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


^^ 


%^ 


A,   «f^'^ 


o^ 


mmm_  jWByw^..Mii  j.Piy;*  Vff ''^'ywwwfw; 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  H'lstorical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microraproductions  historiqua* 


'.-•■■^'i.-T-^tSiiiSi^-^-i-^^'.^,-:  v-.^-i; .-; » 


172 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


t 


extermination  of  the  clan.  But  forgive  me,  I  have 
wandered  from  my  subject,  and  this  cannot  interest 
you." 

"  Yes  —  yes !  go  on.  Tell  me  all  you  can  of  the 
MacDonalds,"  said  the  Woodranger,  his  gaze  still 
fixed  on  the  shore-line. 

"  The  officers  of  the  king  showed  their  vile  natures 
by  the  method  they  adopted  to  entrap  the  unsuspect- 
ing Highlanders.  Seeking  them  under  the  guise  of 
friendship,  no  sooner  had  they  feasted  at  their  board 
than  they  turned  upon  their  entertainers  and  slew 
them  like  sheep,  though  t^ey  made  a  brave  defence. 
The  majority  of  the  Scots  fell  fighting  for  their 
homes  and  loved  ones,  and  not  until  they  were  forced 
to  do  so  did  the  survivors  flee  to  the  mountains  with 
their  wives  and  children.  The  inhuman  victors  then 
burned  the  houses,  drove  away  the  stock,  leaving  the 
wounded  to  die,  and  the  fugitives  in  the  mountain 
fastness  to  oerish  of  cold  and  hunger.  It  v/as  the 
darkest  day  Glencoe  ever  knew.  Among  the  few 
who  escaped  was  a  youth  of  twenty  named  Robert 
Mac  Donald,  the  only  son  of  the  old  chief,  ai»d  his 
young  wife." 

"  Whp.t  became  of  them  ? "  asked  the  Woodranger, 
as  the  other  paused  in  his  pathetic  tale. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  in  full,  sir.  Other  troubles 
overtook  young  MacDonald.  He  was  as  headstrong 
as  his  father,  and  his  sufferings  seemed  to  develop 


'•^^^-^-i 


m 


e,  I  have 
t  interest 

an  of  the 
gaze  still 

le  natures 

msuspect- 

5  guise  of 

itir  board 

and  slew 

;  defence. 

for   their 

ere  forced 

tains  with 

;tcrs  then 

aving  the 

mountain 

was  the 

the  few 

d  Robert 

aiid  his 

odranger, 

troubles 
;adstrong 
develop 


THE  SIGNAL    OF  DANGER. 


173 


the  worst  part  of  his  nature.  He  had  two  children, 
a  son  and  a  daughter.  The  first  had  something  of 
his  father's  spirit,  I  judge,  though  I  never  met  him. 
The  daughter  married  a  young  man  named  Archie 
McNiel.  Some  trouble  arose  between  the  brothers- 
in-law,  and  they  quarrelled.  One  was  killed  and  the 
other  fled  the  country.  Alick,  who  was  killed,  left  a 
young  widow  and  a  little  child,  both  of  whom  lived 
with  his  father.  I  never  wanted  to  be  hard  on  the 
old  man,  and  I  am  willing  to  believe  him  crazed  by 
his  griaf.  He  took  a  great  dislike  for  Mary,  Alick's 
widow,  and  finally,  in  a  iit  of  passion,  drove  her  out 
of  the  house.  It  was  a  bitter,  stoimy  night,  and  the 
poor  outcast  wand'_red  in  a  bewildered  way  several 
miles  from  home,  and  at  last  fell  exhausted  by  the 
roadside. 

"  I  chanced  to  be  abroad  that  evening,  and  on  my 
way  stumbled  over  the  unfortunate  woman.  Seeing 
that  she  was  nearly  dead,  I  bore  her  in  my  arms  to 
my  home,  where  she  was  given  the  best  care  my 
mother  was  capable  of  bestowing.  Toward  morn- 
ing she  revived  somewnat,  so  we  had  hopes  of  her 
life ;  but  it  was  months  and  months  before  she  was 
able  to  be  about.  As  soon  as  she  could  recall  her 
frightful  experiences,  she  related  what  had  befallen 
her,  and  also  that  she  had  left  behind  her  a  little 
girl,  asleep  in  her  couch,  at  the  time  she  had  been 
driven  out  ikito  the  storm.      She  besought  me  to 


1 


'74 


THE    YOUS'C   GUNBEARER. 


go  to  the  home  of  the  MacDonalds,  whom  I  knew 
by  report,  and  find  out  if  the  child  was  well  and 
safe.  She  intended  to  go  home  as  soon  as  she  was 
able. 

"  I  reached  the  place  to  find  that  the  MacDonalds 
had  gone  away,  and  no  one  knew  whither,  though  it 
was  thought  to  America.  I  need  not  dwell  upon 
what  followtd.  Mary's  grief  was  very  hard  to  bear, 
but  I  soon  grew  to  care  for  her,  and  did  all  in  my 
power  to  lighten  her  burdens.  At  last  she  and  I 
were  married,  and  when  my  mother  died  my  wife 
and  I,  with  our  son  Alex,  came  to  this  country.  I 
hope  I  have  not  tired  you  with  a  story  that  was 
longer  than  I  had  intended,  and  filled  with  much 
which  darkens  rather  than  lightens  the  heart." 

"  It  is  ne'er  what  we  remember  o'  pleasure,  but 
what  we  disremember  o'  sorrow,  that  lightens  the 
heart,  man,  that  lightens  the  heart,"  said  the  Wood- 
ranger,  in  his  impressive  manner.  "  But  here  we  are 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Subenacadie,  unless  my  memory 
deceives.  The  sun  has  set,  and  it  will  be  fully  an 
hour  before  the  moon  comes  into  sight.  The  shades 
o'  that  hour  will  be  the  best  cover  we  shall  have,  and 
it  behooves  us  to  get  a  gc  5dish  start  up  the  stream 
during  the  time.  If  I  mistake  not,  yon  is  the  canoe 
o'  our  friends.  Rob  seems  to  be  stirring  himself 
purty  lively.  Mebbe  I  see  the  cause,"  he  added, 
scanning  more  closely  the  expanse  of  water  behind 


m 


HBB 


THE  SIGNAL    OF  DANGER. 


175 


im  I  knew 
s  well  and 
as  she  was 

[acDonalds 
,  though  it 
Iwell  upon 
rd  to  bear, 
all  in  my 
she  and  I 
d  my  wife 
ountry.  I 
1  that  was 
jvith  much 
irt." 

:asure,  but 

jhtens  the 

the  Wood- 

ere  we  are 

ly  memory 

fully  an 

le  shades 

lave,  and 

he  stream 

the  canoe 

g  himself 

le  added, 

er  behind 


them.  "  If  my  ol'  eyes  do  not  deceive  me,  there 
is  another  canoe  trailing  along  behind  Rob." 

"  I  can  see  one  quite  plainly,"  declared  Alex. 
"  Do  you  suppose  the  Indians  are  so  close  after 
them  .? " 

"  In  all  consistency  it  be  the  reds,  or,  what  is 
worse,  the  painted  French.  It  be  leetle  more'n 
was  expected.  Rob  has  a  goodish  pull  on  'em.  It 
may  lock  like  running  away  from  friends,  but  as  I 
count  the  knots  we  can  do  no  better'n  to  run  up  the 
stream.  They  won't  overtake  him  short  o'  the 
stream,  and  if  we  want  to  avoid  an  ambushment  it'll 
be  well  to  push  on  toward  the  Stewiacke." 

The  Woodranger  saiti  this  last  more  to  himself 
than  his  companions,  and  as  he  finished  speaking  he 
resumed  his  paddling,  steering  the  canoe  into  the 
current  of  the  river,  which  was  quite  wide  where  it 
emptied  into  the  bay.  Soon,  however,  the  stream 
grew  narrower,  and  the  overhanging  growth  on  either 
bank  fell  over  into  the  water.  In  a  short  time  they 
were  moving  under  the  deep  shadows  of  the  forest, 
where  it  was  too  dark  to  distinguish  an  object  at  any 
distance.  At  the  request  of  the  Woodranger,  Alex 
stopped  paddling,  watching  with  his  father  the  sur- 
rounding scene,  while  the  forester  sent  the  canoe 
silently,  but  swiftly,  up  the  stream. 

They  must  have  proceeded  three  miles  in  this 
noiseless  manner,  and  the  river  had  narrowed  so  that 


II 


K 


176 


r//£    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


its  banks  ran  within  a  few  yards  of  each  other,  when 
the  Woodranger  abruptly  checked  their  advance,  and 
bent  his  head  forward  in  a  listening  attitude.  Briant 
was  about  to  ask  him  the  cause  of  this  sudden  stop, 
when  a  clear,  guttural  cry  familiar  to  him  reached 
his  ears. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


A   HAND-TO-HAND    ENCOUNTER. 

"  Honk  ! "  the  outcry  of  a  wild  goose,  was  all  that 
had  been  heard  by  Alex,  whose  hearing  was  strained 
to  catch  some  more  startling  alarm,  and  he  was  about 
to  ask  his  father  what  cause  there  was  for  concern, 
when  the  latter  asked  of  the  Woodranger : 

"  Think  they  are  coming  this  way .'  " 
''Yon  prevication,  and  if  there  ain't  French  at 
their  heels  I'll  ne'er  prate  o'  what  I've  shown  I  Jo 
not  know.     The  critters  are  coming  down  the  river, 
and  we  must  get  into  ambushment." 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  forester  had  taken  in  at  one 
survey  their  situation,  and  before  he  concluded  his 
speech  he  sent  the  light  canoe  forward  into  a  Kttle 
cove  formed  by  a  bend  in  the  stream.  Briant  lifted 
the  overhanging  fringe  of  water-bushes  so  that  they 
glided  under  the  growth,  which  fell  back  into  its 
former  position,  concealing  them  in  their  retreat. 
The  spot  seemed  especially  designed  for  their  pur- 
pose, and  they  could  not  have  been  better  provided 
had  they  searched  the  river  its  entire  length.     Catch- 

177 


178 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


ing  hold  of  a  small  tree  growing  on  the  bank,  the 
Woodranger  held  the  canoe  motionless  against  the 
land. 

At  this  moment  Alex  was  somewhat  frightened  by 
the  shrill  cry  of  a  catbird,  seeming  to  issue  from  the 
bushes  in  front  of  him.  Two  cries  uttered  in  rapid 
succession  were  given,  and  then,  after  a  short  pause, 
a  third,  more  prolonged,  rang  out  clear  on  the  still 
night  air,  and  then  he  knew  it  was  the  Woodranger, 
signalling  to  Rob.  In  a  brief  time,  while  they  lis- 
tened with  breathless  interest  for  an  answer,  a  single 
cry  came  from  the  distance  below  them.  Then  the 
Woodranger  gave  reply  by  two  cries,  which  brought 
in  response  three  sharp  notes,  and  nothing  more  was 
heard. 

"  Rob  understands,  and  will  put  in  under  kiver," 
whispered  the  Woodranger.  "  He  has  not  as  good  a 
corner  as  we,  but  I'll  resV  Rob.  Hark !  here  come 
our  friends." 

He  parted  the  dense  bushes  in  front  of  them,  so 
that  the  three  were  able  to  peer  out  upon  the  open 
course  of  the  stream.  The  moon  had  not  yet  risen, 
and,  though  the  sky  was  thickly  set  with  stars,  the 
shadows  ot  the  forest  made  it  too  dark  to  distinguish 
an  ordinary  object  on  the  narrow  expanse  of  water 
running  in  front  of  them.  But  the  snow-white 
figures  of  a  flock  of  wild  geese  swimming  swiftly 
with  the  current  were  seen  clearly  against  the  dark 


f    • 


A  HAND-TO-HAND  ENCOUNTER. 


179 


bank,  the 
;ainst  the 

itened  by 
from  the 
I  in  rapid 
)rt  pause, 

the  still 
odranger, 

they  lis- 
,  a  single 
rhen  the 

brought 
Tiore  was 

r  kiver," 
IS  good  a 
:re  come 

them,  so 
the  open 
'et  risen, 
tars,  the 
itinguish 
of  water 
jw-white 
swiftly 
:he  dark 


background.  The  Woodranger  counted  sixteen  of 
the  creatures  moving  in  perfect  order  under  the 
leadership  of  an  old  fellow  of  prodigious  size,  whose 
head  was  held  high  in  the  air,  while  he  kept  a  close 
survey  of  his  surroundings.  The  others  followed  in 
regular  order,  spreading  out  right  and  left  so  as  to 
form  a  V-shaped  column  with  the  wedge-like  point 
foremost.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  silence  of  the  for- 
est scene  from  the  time  the  leader  came  into  view 
until  the  last  had  vanished  in  the  gloom. 

The  passage  of  the  geese  was  a  pretty  sight  to 
Alex,  but  he  had  anticipated  from  the  manner  of  the 
Woodranger  and  his  father  some  sequel  to  this  flight 
which  he  did  not  understand ;  but  when  several 
minutes  had  passed  in  silence  without  bringing  any 
solution,  he  grew  impatient.  It  required  no  little 
effort  to  remain  quiet  such  a  length  of  time,  but  a 
warning  gesture  from  the  forester  at  last  gave  him 
reason  to  think  the  suspense  was  nearly  over.  The 
sight  which  he  saw  the  next  moment  nearly  brought 
a  cry  of  dismay  from  his  lips,  in  spite  of  the  control 
which  he  had  over  himself. 

All  at  once,  without  warning,  a  canoe  party  had 
darted  into  view  from  out  of  the  gloom  overhanging 
the  stream  above  them.  They  counted  thirteen  in 
the  party,  the  chief  a  uniformed  French  officer,  with 
eight  soldiers  and  four  Indians  in  their  war-paint  and 
feathers.     Though  the  gaze  of  the  leader  was  turned 


!' 


i8o 


THE    YOUNG   UUXBEARER. 


IH' 


alternately  in  every  direction,  he  did  not  discover  the 
presence  of  the  three  in  the  canoe  lying  so  near  that 
it  might  have  been  touched  with  one  of  the  paddles. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  our  friends  did  not  even 
breathe  during  the  brief  interval  of  the  passage 
of  the  enemy,  which  was  made  as  silently  as  that 
of  the  fleeing  geese.  For  a  time  it  seemed  to  Alex 
that  they  could  not  escape  discovery,  and  he  sat 
spellbound  for  some  time  after  the  enemy  had  passed 
out  of  sight. 

"  Do  you  think  another  load  is  on  the  way } "  asked 
Briant,  finally,  speaking  in  a  cautious  whisper. 

The  Woodranger  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  a  bit  narvous  about  Rob,"  he  said.  "  The 
lad  wasn't  favoured  with  so  good  a  place  of  ambush- 
ment  as  we.  I've  a  mind  to  perambulate  back. 
There  may  be  a  scrimmage  before  it  is  over." 

"  You  can  go  if  you  think  best,"  said  Briant. 
"  Alex  and  I  will  keep  our  eyes  and  ears  open.  The 
French  are  surely  on  the  war-path,  and  that  party 
must  be  bound  to  Grand  Pr^  or  the  Fundy  coast." 

The  Woodranger  had  laid  aside  his  paddle,  and 
picked  up  his  gun.  As  Briant  finished  speaking, 
he  stepped  silently  out  upon  the  bank  cf  the 
Subenacadie,  and  while  Alex  and  his  father  watched 
him  he  disappeared  noiselessly  among  the  shadows 
of  the  forest,  leaving  them  to  await  anxiously  his 
return. 


A   HAND-TO-HAND  ENCOUNTER. 


i8i 


icover  the 
near  that 
J  paddles, 
not  even 
I  passage 
f  as  that 
1  to  Alex 
i  he  sat 
id  passed 

? "  asked 

X. 

"The 

ambush- 
e   back, 

Briant. 
n.  The 
It  party 
oast." 
lie,  and 
)eaking, 
of  the 
vatched 
ihadows 
isly  his 


At  the  time  Rob  Rogers  had  been  apprised  of 
danger  by  the  signal  of  the  Woodrarger,  he  and  his 
companions  were  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind 
the  other  canoe,  so  rapidly  had  he  and  Jean  moved 
since  the  pursuit  of  the  Micmacs  had  been  begun, 
well  down  on  Cobequid  Bay.  Nothing  had  been 
seen  or  heard  of  this  war-party  since  entering  the 
Subenacadie,  but  it  was  believed  that  they  were 
not  far  behind.  Thus  this  new  alarm  showed  them 
that  again  they  had  enemies  in  front  as  well  as  in  the 
rear. 

Accordingly  a  halt  was  made,  and  a  hurried  con- 
sultation held.  The  Woodranger  must  have  made  a 
close  examination  of  the  banks  of  the  river,  for  he 
was  correct  in  assuming  that  Rob's  party  would  not 
have  a  good  place  of  concealment  near  at  hand. 
Though  the  forest  overhung  the  stream,  there  was  no 
safe  place  where  they  could  run  in  the  canoe  and  wait 
the  passage  of  the  enemy,  as  their  friends  ahead  had 
done.  But  they  had  more  time  in  which  to  act,  and 
when  Rob  proposed  that  they  land  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  river,  and  secrete  themselves  back  in  the 
woods,  the  plan  was  quickly  accepted  by  Jean,  and 
the  canoe  was  headed  in  that  direction.  Owing  to 
the  close  proximity  of  the  enemy,  the  utmost  caution 
was  necessary  in  their  movements,  but  the  landing 
was  effected  in  silence.  Jean  lifted  Mab  in  his  arms 
and  did  not  put  her  down  until  he  was  three  or  four 


l82 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


rods  from  the  river.  Rob  assisted  Mrs.  Briant  from 
the  canoe,  and  they  followed  the  others,  as  rapidly  as 
jx)ssible.  A  dense  barrier  of  undergrowth  was  soon 
reached,  which  promised  to  be  a  good  place  of  con- 
cealment, and  Mrs.  Hriant  and  Mab  were  told  to 
remain  there  until  Rob  and  Jean  could  secrete  the 
canoe.  This  was  done  by  lifting  the  light  craft  from 
the  water  and  depositing  it  carefully  in  the  midst  of 
a  network  of  running  juniper.  The  two  then  returned 
to  their  anxious  companions. 

All  this  had  taken  place  so  quickly  that  the  re- 
treating geese  had  not  reached  that  vicinity,  though 
they  were  close  down  to  the  spot.  If  the  place  of 
concealment  was  all  that  could  be  expected,  the  view 
of  the  stream  was  cut  off.  Wishing  to  know  just 
what  might  take  place  on  the  Subenacadie,  Rob 
resolved  to  do  a  little  reconnoitring.  Saying  as 
much  to  Jean,  he  stealthily  left  the  ambush,  and 
crept  forward  in  the  direction  of  the  stream. 

He  came  in  sight  of  the  silvery  band  of  water 
winding  through  the  forest,  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  white  chief  of  the  train  of  geese  swept  past,  fol- 
lowed by  his  feathered  legion,  every  head  erect  and 
watchful  of  the  surroundings. 

"  They  are  followed  by  an  enemy,"  thought  Rob, 
but  he  had  barely  come  to  this  conclusion,  when  his 
attention  was  turned  from  the  fugitive  geese  to  an 
object  of  more  startling  importance  to  him.    Though 


-■r^si^lSfSWMB 


A   HAND    TO  HAND  ENCOLNTER. 


'83 


not  a  sound  had  reached  his  ears,  he  saw  tlie  creep- 
ing juniper  a  little  to  his  right  open,  and  the  head 
of  an  Indian  was  thrust  into  sight ! 

A  low,  guttural  exclamation  quickly  followed,  and 
the  brown  countenance  disappeared  at  once  amid  the 
tangle  of  juniper.  The  red  man  had  discovered  the 
white  youth,  and  also  knew  that  he  himself  had  been 
seen.  It  was  a  critical  situation  for  Rob  Rogers,  who 
had  no  way  of  knowing  if  this  Indian  were  alone  or 
accompanied  by  companions.  But  it  was  character- 
istic of  him  to  act  promptly  in  whatever  position  he 
might  find  himself.  It  was  this  trait  which,  more 
than  anything  else,  enabled  him  to  pass  through  so 
many  hairbreadth  escapes  in  his  adventurous  life. 
There  might  be  a  score  of  savage  Micmacs  within 
hail,  but  it  was  this  one  in  front  of  him  whom  he 
must  first  meet.  This  Oi-' »  must  not  be  allowed  to 
give  an  alarm,  for  even  a  he  were  alone  he  would 
attract  the  attention  of  the  party  that  Rob  believed 
was  coming  down  the  stream  at  that  moment.  He 
had  his  gun  with  him,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  risk 
a  shot,  as  the  report  of  the  weapon  would  be  an 
alarm  he  did  not  wish  to  make.  'T'hus,  dropping  the 
firearm,  he  snatched  his  stout  knife  from  its  sheath, 
and  sprang  straight  at  the  concealed  Indian  before 
the  latter  could  make  an  attack  on  him. 

Although  taken  by  surprise,  the  red  man,  attacked 
just  as  he  had  opened  his  mouth  to  utter  the  war- 


^1 

]\ 


ill 


1 


H 


184 


THE    YOUNG   GUNREARER. 


whoop  of  his  race,  rlefiantly  met  his  daring  assailant, 
and  the  two  closed  in  a  struggle  which  meant  life 
or  death.  From  the  very  onset  it  became  an  equal 
tussle  for  the  mastery.  If  Rob  was  tall  and  strong 
of  limb,  the  Micmac  warrior  was  his  equal.  Crouch- 
ing i;i  the  midst  of  the  thicket,  he  had  sprung  to  his 
feet  at  the  moment  of  Rob's  attack,  and  the  bushes 
springing  back  slapped  the  boy  ranger  in  the  face,  so 
that  he  was  for  an  instant  bewildered.  But  he  rallied 
swiftly,  and  seized  the  Indian  about  the  throat  with  his 
left  hand,  while  he  dealt  him  a  furious  blow  with  );he 
knife  in  his  other  hand.  The  blade  glanced  slightly, 
sufficient  to  save  the  red  man's  life,  and  the  weapon 
was  dashed  from  Rob's  hold  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

As  his  clutch  tightened  upon  the-  throat  of  his 
enemy,  the  other  caught  him  in  the  same  manner, 
and  in  a  moment  the  couple  were  holding  each  other 
at  arm's  length,  each  concentrating  his  great  strength 
to  strangle  his  antagonist.  '  he  Micmac  had  caught 
upon  Rob's  wrist  with  hi„  free  nand,  in  a  vain 
attempt  to  wrest  the  awful  grasp  that  was  suffocat- 
ing him.  With  his  free  hand,  Rob  had  seized  upon 
the  body  cf  his  enemy. 

So  far  not  a  sound  had  broker,  the  silence  of  their 
surroundings,  and  in  this  position  the  cwo  stood  for 
what  seemed  a  long  time.  Unconscious  of  this  tragic 
scene  being  enacted  so  close  at  hand,  the  canoe  party 
under  the  command   of  the  French  officer  drifted 


ig  assailant, 
meant  life 
le  an  equal 
and  strong 
i.     Crouch- 
rung  to  his 
the  bushes 
the  face,  so 
t  he  rallied 
aat  with  his 
>w  with  ihe 
ed  slightly, 
he  weapon 
e  ground, 
oat  of  his 
le  manner, 
each  other 
It  strength 
lad  caught 
in   a   vain 
s  suffocat- 
iized  upon 

:e  of  their 
stood  for 
this  tragic 
moe  party 
er  drifted 


==sft- 


A   HA^DTOHAND  ENCOUNTER. 


185 


down  the  Subenacadie  past  the  place,  and  away 
toward  Cobequid  Bay.  Rob  was  standing  so  that 
he  faced  the  river,  and  he  caught  a  gleam  of  the  war- 
party  as  it  sped  past,  but  the  next  instant  he  put 
them  fro'  his  mind,  as  he  sought  anew  to  master  his 
foe.  His  eyes  seemed  starting  'from  their  sockets, 
and  he  could  only  breathe  by  short  gasps  that  were 
full  of  agony.  The  red  man's  clutch  seemed  to  be  a 
grip  of  iron,  while  his  tenacity  of  life  was  even  greater, 
for  Rob  had  concentrated  all  of  his  great  strength  to 
crush  out  the  life  of  the  other. 

At  that  moment  Rob  felt  his  foe  sinking  slightly 
back,  and  even  that  little  compliance  to  his  pressure 
gave  him  hope.  Rallying,  he  pushed  the  ot^  r  back- 
ward with  all  the  strength  he  could  command.  The 
result  was  a  glad  surprise  to  him,  for  the  Micmac 
suddenly !.  -..  his  footing,  and,  slipping  on  the  bank  of 
the  stream,  dropped  face  downward  in  the  water.  Un- 
noticed by  either  of  them,  he  had  been  standing  on  the 
brink  of  the  river.  Expecting  the  red  man  would 
renew  the  fight,  Rob  quickly  picked  up  his  knife,  and 
prepared  for  a  defence,  though  weak  and  blinded 
from  his  reccint  encounter.  But  the  Micmac  did  not 
move  after  he  fell,  and  the  excitement  passing,  Rob 
felt  his  own  strength  leaving  him,  and  he  slipped 
down  upon  the  groind,  where  for  the  time  he  lay 
powerless. 

Rob  could  not  tell  how  long  he  had  lain  there  in 


i86 


THE    YOUNG  GUNB BARER. 


that  semi-unconscous  condition  before  the  cry  of  the 
Woodranger's  mocking-bird  rang  in  his  ears.  He 
rallied  sufficiently  to  reply,  but  did  not  attempt  to 
regain  his  feet.  He  was  sure  his  throat  was  swollen 
to  prodigious  size,  and  it  was  only  with  great  difficulty 
that  he  could  answer  his  friend.  The  latter  was 
already  near  at  hand,  and  a  little  later  he  stepped 
silently  into  the  clearing  in  front  of  our  hero. 


It 


il 


H 


•mCMMH 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


CHALLENGED   BY   THE   ENEMY. 


Rob  had  recovered  himself  enough  to  speak  in  a 
low  tone  to  the  Woodranger,  at  the  same  time  rising 
to  his  feet,  and  confronting  his  friend.  The  latter 
instantly  understood  that  something  unusual  had 
transpired,  and  he  said : 

"  Now's  me,  there  be  an  alarm  in  yoar  appear- 
ance, though  no  word  has  reached  my  ol'  ears.  Is't 
because  I've  been  unmindful  o'  my  duty.'" 

"  No,  Woodranger,"  replied  Rob,  speaking  in  the 
same  cautious  tone  the  other  had  used.  "  It  was  but 
a  trifle,  though  the  red  held  me  hard  for  a  time.  Let 
me  see  if  I  can  find  my  gun." 

The  Woodranger  asked  no  further  question,  and 
when  Rob  had  recovered  his  firearm,  he  led  his  com- 
panion to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  both  gazed  on 
the  motionless  form  of  the  Micmac,  who  was  still 
lying  face  downward  in  the  water.  The  forester 
understood  what  had  taken  place,  though  he  made 
no  reference  to  it  when  he  spoke : 

"The  inemy  has  passed  down  the  stream,  and  is 

187 


'1 


n 


n 


i8S 


r//£    YOUNG   GUNB RARER. 


getting  well  along  to  Cobequid.  Is  this  red  varmint 
all  you  have  seen  o'  the  painted  heathens?" 

"  It  is,  Woodranger ;  but  he  was  creeping  through 
the  brush  like  a  wolf.  How  many  others  are  skulk- 
ing round  I  cannot  say.  The  woods  may  be  full  of 
them,  though  I  think  this  one  was  a  sp>  sent  out 
to  see  what  he  could  find," 

"  Which  be  a  discreet  consideration.  He  found  a 
load  he  will  ne'er  take  back  to  his  kind.  I  jedge  the 
others  be  safe." 

"  A  few  rods  away,  Woodranger.  Are  we  to  keep 
on  up  the  river  > " 

"Sart'in.  I  jedge  the  way  be  toler'ble  clear  for 
us  to  the  Stewiacke,  though  that  don't  mean  that  we 
are  to  go  blindfolded.  Until  we  pass  the  garrison 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Stewiacke,  mebbe  we'd  better 
keep  cluser  together.  Mind  you,  I  depend  much  on 
your  discretion  as  to  /tow  near,  and  how  .dark  the 
way  -Tiay  be." 

•'  I  understand,  Woodranger.  While  you  are  get- 
ting back  to  your  canoe  I  will  get  my  companions 
into  this  one,  and  overtake  you.  The  moon  will 
soon  be  flooding  the  woods  with  its  light." 

"That  be  true,  lad.  And  we  must  reach  the 
Stewiacke  afore  her  lamp  gets  too  high ;  leastways, 
that  is  our  most  discretionary  course." 

Without  stopping  for  Rob's  reply,  the  forester 
started  off  through  the  growth  as  silently  as  he  had 


m 


tMJkSilUiiiUlt'mUn 


CHALLENGED  BY  THE  ENEMY, 

come,  while  our  hero,  still  suffering  from  his  struggle 
with  the  Micmac,  rejoined  his  companions  in  their 
concealment.  Nothing  had  occurred  to  alarm  them, 
and,  without  dreaming  of  the  fearful  ordeal  through 
which  Rob  had  passed,  they  followed  him  in  silence 
back  to  the  bank  of  the  river.  As  the  canoe  had 
been  left  a  little  below  the  place  of  encounter,  none 
of  them  saw  the  body  c  ■   the  Indian. 

Jean  and  Rob  then  carefully  placed  the  canoe  back 
upon  the  water,  and,  holding  it  where  the  others 
could  step  in,  Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  soon  seated 
themselves  near  the  middle.  Rob  then  took  a  posi- 
tion in  the  bow,  while  Jean  stationed  himself  in  the 
stern.  As  they  paddled  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
stream  the  moon  appeared  on  the  distant  horizon, 
though  only  a  few  struggling  beams  penetrated  their 
surroundings. 

Mab  started  slightly  as  the  dismal  bark  of  a  wolf 
came  from  the  far  distance  on  their  right.  The  cry 
possessed  a  lingering  intonation,  so  that  it  hung 
for  what  seemed  a  long  time  upon  the  solitude  of 
the  primeval  forest.  But  it  received  no  response, 
and,  finding  it  was  the  only  sound  to  break  the 
deep  silence  of  vast  woods,  the  little  party  all 
breathed  easier,  as  they  moved  forward  on  their 
lonely  journey. 

"Did  you  learn  anything  of  the  Woodranger's 
meaning  in  giving  his  alarm } "    asked  Jean  ValUe, 


m 


I 


tm 


u 


n\ 


n 


190 


rj/£    YOUNG   GUNBEAREK. 


when  they  hr.d  got  fairly  started  again.  It  was  a 
trait  of  the  true  woodsman  never  to  appear  curious, 
or  show  undue  concern  over  what  might  really  affect 
his  personal  safety.  From  the  same  training,  Rob 
had  refrained  from  giving  his  experience  until  now. 
In  a  few  words  he  explained  what  he  had  seen  and 
done  sufficient  fcr  his  companions  to  understand  the 
situation,  though  they  did  not  dream  how  near  he  had 
been  to  meeting  his  death  at  the  hands  of  the  Mic- 
mac.  Jean  was  much  pleased  with  what  he  learned, 
saying : 

"This  war-party  going  down  the  river  will  meet 
the  others,  and  if  I  do  not  make  a  mistake  it  will 
work  to  our  good.  The  French  will  report  the 
stream  clear,  not  having  seen  us,  and  the  Le  Noir 
gang  may  think  that  we  went  up  the  Cobequid  in- 
stead of  coming  up  the  Subenacadie.  You  know 
we  took  extra  caution  to  make  it  appear  we  were 
going  to  do  so." 

"  What  you  say  seems  very  probable,"  said  Rob. 
"At  any  rate,  we  think  we  have  reason  to  be  hopeful 
of  making  the  Stewiacke  without  encountering  the 
French  or  Micmacs,  unless  we  run  into  another  war- 
party  coming  this  way.  At  any  rate,  they  shall  not 
catch  us  napping." 

In  the  meantime,  the  Woodranger  had  returned  to 
his  companions,  to  find  both  Alex  and  his  father  anx- 
iously awaiting  his  coming.     Without  further  delay, 


n 


CHALLENGED  BY   THE   ENEMY. 

the  canoe  was  pushed  out  from  under  its  cover,  and 
in  a  minute  the  three  were  again  ascending  the  river. 
As  before,  Briant  acted  as  a  lookout,  keeping  a 
sharp  watch  ahead  for  the  enemy,  while  occasionally 
watching  for  the  appearance  of  the  canoe  behind 
them.  The  latter  soon  overtaking  them,  the  trip  up 
the  river  was  continued  mile  after  mile  without  any 
cause  for  alarm,  until  they  began  to  draw  near  the 
little  garrison  known  as  Fort  Alliance,  and  which 
constituted  a  sort  of  half-way  station  for  the  French 
and  Indians  passing  back  and  forth  between  Chebucto 
and  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  with  the  intermediate  places 
on  the  way.  The  Subenacadie  rises  near  Grand 
Lake  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  that  lake  is 
connected  with  Chebucto  Bay  by  a  continuous  chain  of 
lakelets,  thus  making  an  ideal  waterway  for  the  Mic- 
macs  in  their  raids  north  ;  for  the  trails  of  the  Indians 
between  distant  points  always  followed  such  streams 
and  bodies  of  water  as  lay  between  the  objective 
places.  While  the  red  man  was  capable  of  prodigious 
journeys  on  foot,  he  seldom  walked  when  he  could  go 
by  canoe. 

Briant  and  Jean  Vallie  were  familiar  with  the  situa- 
tion of  the  fort  at  the  junction  of  the  Subenacadie  and 
the  Stewiacke,  and  finally  Briant  motioned  for  a  pause. 

"  The  fort  stands  on  the  left  bank  of  the  stream, 
and  is  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead.  Had  we 
better  attempt  to  pass  it  as  we  are  going?" 


tf 


m 


•1 


'\ 


193 


r/^^    YOUNG  GUNBEAREK. 


"  How  many  men  are  likely  to  be  at  the  place  ? " 
asked  the  Woodranger,  the  entire  conversation  car- 
ried on  in  a  whisper. 

"A  dozen,  I  should  say.  I  never  knew  of  more 
than  that  number  there  at  a  time.  There  is  gen- 
erally a  guard  on  duty  near  the  Subenacadie,  but 
never  any  on  the  Stewiacke.  As  soon  as  we  have 
gone  up  that  stream  a  quarter  of  a  mile  we  shall  be 
clear  of  the  enemy." 

"I  opine  it  is  not  a  long  tramp  across  the  land 
from  this  stream  to  the  other,"  said  the  Woodranger. 

"The  Stewiacke  can  be  reached  by  going  less 
than  a  mile  from  here,  and  without  going  nearer 
than  half  a  mile  to  the  fort.  If  it  were  not  for  this 
wound  of  mine  we  might  easily  cross  in  that  way." 

"  Mebbe  it  will  be  better  for  some  o'  us  to  go  that 
way,  as  the  smaller  the  party  to  pass  the  garrison, 
the  easier.  Being  a  man  varsed  in  the  country,  it 
may  be  well  for  you  to  set  the  stick.  I'm  not  above 
being  I'arnt  a  leetle  common  sense,  or  'yon'  taking 
advice." 

"  Jean,  being  able  to  speak  their  language,  and  in 
fact  being  one  of  them  in  appearance,  might  be  the 
best  fitted  to  undertake  getting  one  of  the  canoes 
past  the  place.  I  think  he  could  take  Mary  and  me, 
and  perhaps  Mab,  in  one  canoe,  and  run  the  gauntlet 
of  the  French.  Jean  is  a  shrewd  fellow,  and  as 
brave  as  a  lion." 


■  ^m. 


CHALLENGED   BY   THE  EAEMY. 


"All  o'  which  shows  sound  discretion  on  your 
part.  Mebbe  the  boy  could  go  along  with  you, 
while  Rob  and  I  will  creep  up  so  as  to  be  on  hand  in 
case  of  a  scrimmage.  You  can  count  on  Rob  every 
time.  Seeing  you  past,  —  mind  you,  I  say  presum- 
ing you  have  passed  the  allies  o'  the  painted  heathens, 
—  the  lad  and  I  will  take  the  canoe  'cross  to  the 
other  string  o'  water.  Having  come  to  this  agree- 
ment, it  may  be  discreet  for  us  to  act  with  prompt- 
ness. Here  comes  Rob,  and  while  you  double  up 
your  load  I'll  perambulate  round  a  bit." 

The  Woodranger  left  the  canoe,  as  he  had  sug- 
gested, and  Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  were  assisted  in, 
followed  by  Alex,  whom  it  was  thought  best  to  take 
with  them.  Jean  then  took  charge,  assuring  the 
others  that  he  would  contrive  to  pass  the  fort  some- 
how. Rob  took  the  remaining  canoe  toward  the  bank. 
Stepping  out  into  the  shallow  water  before  the  craft 
had  touched  bottom,  he  lifted  the  canoe  out  upon 
the  land.  Then  he  waited  for  the  return  of  the 
Woodranger,  who  had  vanished  into  the  forest. 

The  Subenacadie  was  still  a  stream  of  consider- 
able width,  though  above  the  fork  of  the  Stewiacke 
it  suddenly  narrowed.  Jean  steered  his  course  along 
the  middle,  no  longer  moving  as  noiselessly  as  pos- 
sible, but  assuming  a  carelessness  he  was  far  from 
feeling.  This  was  done  to  give  his  approach  the 
appearance  of  a  party  feeling  .safe  from  attack  by 


li 


'94 


THE    YOUiXG    GUNBEARER. 


W 


11 


,>H 


those  occupying  the  country.  He  even  began  ^o 
sing  one  of  the  popular  boat  songs  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, his  deep,  melodious  voice  filling  the  night  air 
with  its  rich  music  : 

" '  Derri^re  chez  noua  ya't  —  un  tf tang, 
Fringue  !  Fringue  sur  I'aviron  ! 
Trols  beaux  canards  s'en  vont  baignant, 
Fringue  !  Fringue  sur  la  riviere  I 
Fringue  1  Fringue  sur  I'aviron  I 

"•Avec  son  grand  fusil  d 'argent, 

Fringue  !  Fringue  sur  I'aviron  I 
Visa  le  noir,  tua  le  blanc. 

Fringue  !  Fringue  sur  la  riviire 
Fringue !  Fringue  sur  I'aviron. 

"  •  Trois  beaux  canards  s'en  vont  baignant ! 
Fringue !  Fringue  sur  I'aviron  I 
Le  fils  du  roi  s'en  va  chassant. 

Fringue  !  Fringue  sur  la  riviere ! 
Fringue !  — '  " 

"Silence,  you  noisy  knave!"  suddenly  broke  in 
upon  the  song  of  Jean  Vallie,  as  he  plied  his  paddles 
in  unison  with  Alex  along  the  winding  Subenacadie, 
in  close  proximity  to  the  lone  fortress  in  the  wilder- 
ness. 

"Silence,  yourself,"  cried  the  Basque,  defiantly, 
"  till  I  have  finished  my  merry  song. 

" '  Le  fils  du  roi  s'en  va  chassant, 

Fringue !  Fringue  sur  I'av —  ' " 


:.  Law- 
;ht  air 


3ke  in 
addles 
icadie, 
vilder- 

lantly, 


CHALLENGED  BY  THE  ENEMY. 


195 


"  Stop !  "  fairly  roared  the  unseen  challenger,  in  a 
ringing  French  voice.  "  Silence,  or  I'll  put  a  bullet 
through  your  thick  head." 

By  this  time  Jean  had  run  the  canoe  in  near 
enough  to  the  bank  to  discover  the  faint  outlines  of 
a  man  standing  back  a  short  distance,  holding  in  a 
threatening  manner  a  long-barrel  musket.  Back  of 
this  single  foeman  rose  the  dark  walls  of  Fort  Alli- 
ance. 

"  Your  pardon,  monsieur,"  Jean  hastened  to  say,  in 
a  tone  of  great  civility.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  disturb 
your  slumber  with  my  foolish  song,  but  I  forgot,  and 
was  dreaming  that  I  was  back  in  old  Quebec,  and 
that  I  was  a  youth  again.  What  cheer  here  in  the 
wilderness } " 

"  Who  are  you  prowling  through  the  country  as  if 
the  sound  of  a  musket  was  unknown  to  you  ?  " 

"A  peaceful  traveller,  monsieur,  on  his  way  to 
Chebucto  with  his  family." 

"  One  of  the  accursed  Neutrals  I "  exclaimed  the 
soldier,  for  such  he  was. 

"Not  if  I  know  my  father's  spirit,"  cried  Jean, 
quickly.  "  The  wrong  of  years  demands  justice,  but 
T  must  first  see  my  family  safe  at  my  journey's  end." 

"  Theii  you  are  bound  to  Chebucto  ? " 

"  Pray  where  else  does  the  Subenacadie  lead  ? " 

"True  enough.  If  you  are  not  a  Neutral,  then 
what  are  you?" 


m 

I 


m-}. 


.96 


THR    YOUNG   GUNBEAKRK. 


"A  Gunbearcr!"  replied  Jean,  boldly,  resuming 
his  passage  up  the  stream,  as  if  his  answer  had  been 
sufficient. 

"Hold!"  cried  the  s-ntry.  swiftly  raising  his  gun 
so  its  long  barrel  was  pointed  ominously  at  the  little 
party  of  fugitives;  "you  have  not  given  the  pass- 
word and  my  orders  are  to  let  none  pass  here  with- 
out it,  be  he  friend  or  foe." 

Jean  Vallie  realised  that  the  critical  moment  of 
their  flight  had  come,  and  that  to  fail  in  his  reply 
meant  disaster  to  them.  While  he  hesitated  for  an 
instant,  Briant  whispered  : 

"  Try  '  Main-4-Dieu.'  " 


Jft 


CHAPTER   XX. 

TALES    OF    THE    GREENWOOD. 

"  Main-X-Dieu  !  "  said  Jean  Vallie,  beginning  to 
move  forward  again  without  waiting  for  a  reply  from 
the  soldier,  who  muttered  something  he  did  not  hear, 
but  allowed  him  to  keep  on.  The  shrewd  Basque 
made  no  attempt  to  display  any  caution  uwtil  the 
mouth  of  the  Stewiacke  was  reached,  when  he  began 
to  move  with  all  the  silence  possible.  The  canoe 
was  headed  up  this  smaller  stream,  both  he  and 
Alex  sending  the  light  boat  along  against  the  current 
with  strong,  noiseless  strokes.  For  a  brief  while 
Briant,  whose  ears  were  strained  to  catch  any  sound, 
heard  confused  cries  from  the  direction  of  the  fort, 
but  if  any  pursuit  was  made,  nothing  came  of  it. 

The  Stewiacke  was  a  stream  considerably  smaller 
than  the  Subenacadie,  and  our  party  soon  found 
that  their  progress  must  necessarily  be  slower  and 
more  tedious.  After  going  what  he  judged  to  be 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  Jean  ceased  his  rowing  and 
motioned  for  Alex  to  do  the  same. 

"We  might  as  well  rest  here  a  few  minutes  for 

'97 


198 


THE    YOCyTG   GUNBEARER. 


the  others,"  he  said.  "  I  think  you  will  be  glad  of 
a  breathing-spell,  Alex,  for  it  has  been  a  long,  step^dy 
pull." 

"Do  you  think  the  danger  is  past.?"  asked  Mrs. 
Briant,  anxiously, 

"The  worst  of  it,  madam.  Of  course  we  have 
got  to  keep  our  eyes  open,  but  each  dip  of  the 
paddle  widens  the  distance  between  us  and  our 
enemies  until  we  have  made  the  St.  Mary's  River, 
when  again  we  shall  be  running  into  the  lion's  jaws." 

"  Here  come  Woodranger  and  the  boy,"  said  Briant, 
in  a  tone  of  gladness.  "Any  news  of  alarm.?"  he 
asked  of  the  forester. 

"The  French  do  show  consam,  and  a  couple  o' 
soldiers  have  gone  up  the  Subenacadie.  Mebbe 
you'll  consider  it  only  a  word  o'  discretion  if  I  'vise 
that  we  move  ahead  with  as  leetle  delay  as  possible. 
I  opine  we  shall  have  to  move  slower  arter  this. 
While  the  rest  o'  you  be  changing  our  loads  so  they 
will  be  the  same  as  afore,  I'll  scout  back  a  bit. 
There  is  no  telling  who  may  be  hanging  on  your 
heels." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  entire  party  was  moving 
slowly  and  cautiously  up  the  Stewiacke,  the  Wood- 
ranger,  Briant,  and  Alex  in  the  foremost  canoe,  while 
the  others  followed  close  behind.  Not  a  word  was 
uttered  until  the  forest  was  touched  with  the  rosy 
beams  of  another  day,  and  their  pathway  no  longer 


TALES  OF   THE   GREENWOOD. 


199 


be  glad  of 
ng,  3te?idy 

sked  Mrs. 

w^e  have 
ip  of  the 

and  our 
y^'s  River, 
n's  jaws." 
lid  Briant, 
irm.?"  he 

couple  o' 

Mebbe 

if  I  'vise 

possible. 

rter  this. 

!  so  they 

k  a  bit. 

on  your 

moving 
e  Wood- 
36,  while 
^ord  was 
the  rosy 
0  longer 


lay  under  the  darkness  of  the  overhanging  woods, 
when  the  Woodranger  suddenly  stopped  rowing,  and, 
rrtotioning  silence  to  his  companions,  pointed  ahead. 

If  alarmed  at  first,  this  fear  swiftly  fled,  as  Alex 
and  his  father  saw  a  pair  of  sheldrake  ducks  dart 
from  a  thicket  on  the  bank  of  the  stream  and,  swim- 
ming rapidly  across  the  water,  disappear  the  next 
moment  somewhere  in  the  water-rushes  beyond.  As 
brief  as  was  the  view  of  them,  they  presented  a  pretty 
picture  of  wildwood  life. 

««The  sheldrake  duck,"  commented  the  Wood- 
ranger,  as  they  vanished  in  the  bushes ;  "  and  you 
may  rest  assured  that  no  human  being  is  nigh,  unless 
he  has  crept  upon  these  birds  unawares,  as  we  have 
done.  I  think  it'll  be  discreet  to  stop  a  bit  and  rest. 
It's  ag'in  human  natur'  to  move  alwus,  especially  if 
sich  be  woman  natur'." 

As  he  cea?.ed  speaking  the  Woodranger  stepped 
out  into  the  shallow  water,  and  Alex  followed  his 
example.  The  forester  then  lifted  Briant  up  in  his 
arms  and  laid  him  carefully  down  upon  the  ground 
not  far  from  the  bank  of  the  river.  The  canoe  was 
next  raised  from  the  water,  and  placed  bottom  up  in 
a  spot  where  it  would  get  the  most  sunlight,  so  that 
it  might  dry  while  they  waited  here.  Next  to  his 
gun,  the  true  woodsman  cared  for  the  canoe  which 
bore  him  on  his  long  journeys  Whenever  it  could 
be  avoided  one  of  them  was  never  aUowed  to  touch 


■£^" 


'M\ 


M 


2CX) 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


the  bottom  of  a  stream,  and  as  soon  as  a  halt  was 
made  these  light  crafts  were  lifted  out  of  the  water 
and  placed,  as  the  Woodranger  had  his,  upside  down, 
so  that  they  would  not  only  cause  the  water  to  run 
off,  but  that  they  might  dry  so  as  to  be  as  light  as 
■__  ossible  when  the  journey  was  resumed. 

By  this  time  the  other  canoe  had  reached  the  land- 
ing-place, and  the  forester  went  back  intO  the  forest 
a  short  distance  to  prepare  a  spot  for  camping  and  to 
rest  for  a  few  hours.  First  gathering  some  boughs, 
he  covered  these  with  a  deep  layer  of  leaves,  so  that 
he  soon  h"td  corafortable  couches  for  Mr.  Briant,  who 
sadly  needed  the  rest,  and  for  Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab. 

"  It  is  natur'  to  sleep,  for  sleep  means  rest,"  he 
said  to  Alex,  who  had  lent  his  assistance  in  preparing 
this  place  for  comfort.  "  I  opine  it  will  be  best  for 
the  females  to  sleep  awhile.  And  I  hope  you  won't 
feel  I  have  committed  an  indiscretion  if  I  'vise  you  to 
catch  a  bit  o'  sleep,  too.  There  be  a  long  jarncy 
ahead  o'  us.  Here  come  the  others,  and  mebbe  I'll 
take  a  short  perambulation  to  see  that  no  inemy  be 
lurking  nigh.  You  can  say  as  much  to  Rob,  who 
knows  how  to  treat  an  ol'  man's  whims." 

His  tall  figure  was  vanishing  in  the  distance  as 
the  rest  of  the  fugitives  reached  the  place,  Briant 
assisted  hither  by  Rob  and  Jean.  This  stop  was 
appreciated  by  the  Briant  fan.ily,  all  of  whom,  ex- 
cepting Alex,  were  well  worn  by  the  fatigues  of  the 


H'aJ&^saiSiaKSiwsM**©.'' 


TALES  OF  THE  GREENWOOD. 


20 1 


m 


perilous  flight.  Both  Rob  and  Jean  urged  them  to 
lie  down  and  sleep,  as  soon  as  they  had  eaten  of  the 
bacon  and  barley  bread  that  they  had  taken  with 
them.  Half  an  hour  later  this  advice  had  been  acted 
upon  so  far  that  two,  at  ?^ast,  of  the  party,  Mrs. 
Briant  and  Mab,  were  fast  asleep.  Briant  was  rest- 
ing as  comfortably  as  possible,  while  even  Jean  did 
not  deny  himself  repose  on  the  leaf-carpeted  earth. 
Finally,  Rob  Rogers,  wondering  where  the  Wood- 
ranger  could  be,  stole  down  to  the  bank  of  the 
Stewiacke,  followed  a  moment  after  by  the  alert 
Alex.  At  that  moment  the  Woodranger  wai.  seen 
coming  from  the  forest. 

"Any  sign,  Woodranger?"  asked  Rob. 

"Only  the  sign  o'  peace,  lad.  I  have  taken  a 
goodish  perambulation  o'  the  woods  and  I  feel  better 
for  it.  The  rest  are  discreet  in  seeking  comfort  in 
their  own  way." 

"  Why  is  it  you  never  rest,  Woodranger  > "  asked 
Alex.     "  Don't  you  ever  get  tired .?  " 

"  Tired,  lad  ?  Mebbe  I  get  the  wrong  drift  o' 
your  idee,  If  by  being  tired  you  mean  tired  of  set- 
ting on  my  haunches,  like  a  fat  goose  that  cannot 
waddle  on  'count  its  own  weight,  then  I  should  prev- 
icate  the  truth  did  I  say  '  Nay.'  If  by  getting  tired 
you  mean  tired  o'  the  free  use  o'  those  limbs  given 
me  by  a  wise  Creator  as  a  means  of  recreation,  then 
I  should  break  the  divine  kw  by  answering  *Ay.* 


i 


RF— * 


202 


THL    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Durst  think  I  ne'er  rest,  when  for  a  long  hour  I've 
been  breshing  the  cobwebs  from  the  briar  and  juni- 
per with  feet  that  were  given  me  for  use,  and  legs 
that  weary  from  inaction  and  not  from  motion? 

"  The  value  o'  a  pair  o'  good  legs  —  and  all  legs 
would  be  good  if  properly  trained  —  be  not  known 
to  him  who  squats  on  some  means  o'  conveyance  and 
complains  o'  the  slight  natur'  has  put  on  him  when 
he  acts  at  variance  with  her  intentions.  Legs  were 
made  to  carry  the  body  and  not  as  a  roosting-place. 
There  be  no  rest  like  a  smart  perambulation  o'  the 
woods,  and  no  mender  o'  tiredness  like  the  breath  o' 
the  pine  forest  scented  with  the  birch  and  maple.  I 
was  tired,  lad,  with  my  legs  doubled  up  like  a  brokep. 
stick  in  that  bit  o'  birch  bark  ;  I  be  rested  now  arter 
my  brisk  walk  in  the  fresh  morning." 

"By  the  way,  Woodranger,"  said  .Alex,  "there 
is  a  question  I  wish  to  ask  you  about  those  geese. 
How  did  you  know  the  French  officer  and  his  crew 
were  behind  them,  when  we  stopped  on  the  Suben- 
acadie  ? " 

"  I  Tamed  that  in  the  book  o*  natur',  lad,  long  ere 
you  ever  see'd  a  goose,"  replied  the  Woodranger, 
with  a  smile.  "I  don't  mind  Taming  it  to  you, 
seeing  i  ou're  a  likely  lad  who  keeps  his  eyes  and  ears 
open.  The  goose  be  a  wary  creetur',  and  he  ne'er 
prowls  abroad  blind  to  his  own  danger.  His  scent  is 
keen,  his  ear  clear,  his  eye  bright.     The  wind  was 


TALES  OF  THE   GREENWOOD. 


203 


right  last  evening  for  him  to  scent  an  ineniy  coming 
down  the  stream,  while  he  could  not  have  scented 
our  approach.  Mebbe  that  flock  had  put  in  for  quar- 
ters till  morning,  when  their  chief  discovered  the 
approach  o'  'em  whom  he  knew  was  an  inemy,  when 
he  marshalled  his  troop  and  marched  'em  down  the 
river  for  the  open  bay,  where  they  would  be  able 
to  escape.  Minded  you  how  regular  the  ol'  fellow 
marched  his  men  .'  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  always  supposed  the  goose  was  the 
moFt  stupid  and  foolish  of  all  bird-kind." 

"That  is  'cause  you  have  been  taught  from  the 
book  )'  man  and  not  natur's  own.  It  be  true  that 
the  tame  goose  does  sometimes  'pear  stupid,  but, 
if  he  is,  his  wild  kin  is  far  from  it.  In  p'int  o' 
fact,  no  bird  be  more  gitted  in  the  knack  o'  seeing, 
and  not  one  has  a  better  idee  o'  location  and  dis- 
tance. Then,  too,  he  is  a  great  talker  and  planner 
o'  his  doings,  which  to  me  speaks  o'  a  high  sense 
o'  the  fitness  o'  things,  and  shows  that  he  has  power 
o'  reason. 

"  I  claim  no  great  knack  at  trailing  sich  idees  o" 
them  that  speak  not  in  my  tongue,  but  the  language 
o'  the  wild  goose  is  easy  to  read.  I  remember  one 
fall,  as  I  was  hunting  up  north,  that  a  flock  0'  wild 
geese  came  trooping  over  my  head,  and  as  I  was 
standing  on  a  high  bluff  I  was  brought  purty  nigh  to 
'em,  though  I  was  kivered  from  'em.     I  had  heerd 


if 


204 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


the  gang  atalking  among  'emselves,  for  all  the  world 
as  a  party  o'  men  might  do.  They  was  headed  Fouth, 
with  the  o'i  hief  at  his  proper  place.  For  some 
reason  which  I  ne'er  understood,  jest  as  he  got  over 
my  head  he  sheered  short  off  to  the  west,  and  sung 
out  to  his  followers  to  do  the  same.  But  this  didn't 
seem  to  suit  one  o'  his  heutenants,  who  answered 
him  purty  pert  and  kept  on  toward  the  south.  At 
this  some  followed  the  rebel,  while  others  took  arter 
the  ol'  chief.  noticed  they  were  all  young  birds 
that  kept  straight  ahead. 

*'  Seeing  his  order  had  been  disobeyed,  the  ol'  chief 
wheeled  about,  shouting  and  screaming  for  all  the 
world  as  a  leader  of  men  might  do,  who  was  in  the 
same  fix.  He  rushed  in  ahead  of  the  new  leader,  and 
one  o'  the  sharpest  scrimmages  with  the  tongue  fol- 
lowed that  I  ever  heerd.  I  can't  say  that  the  ol' 
goose  took  vain  language,  as  men  are  too  prone  to 
do  when  in  anger,  but  I  do  know  he  told  that  rebel- 
lious goose  what  he  thouf^ht  o'  him.  Then  he  fired 
his  hot  shot  at  the  others,  v*ho  one  by  one  began  to 
head  toward  the  west.  This  went  on  until  the  rebel 
was  left  alone  with  his  scolding  commander.  O' 
course  I  can  ne'er  give  you  the  expressions  that 
couple  uttered,  but  I  ne'er  heerd  dialogue  'tween 
human  beings  that  showed  plainer  the  passions  o'  the 
breast  o'  man  or  beast.  They  showed  rage  at  being 
defied,  stubbornness  at  being  commanded  to  do  what 


1*0*,. 


TALES  OF  THE   GREENWOOD. 


205 


one  did  not  want  to  do,  and  a  determination  not  to 
give  up  on  both  sides. 

'  But  the  ol'  chief,  who  had  no  doubt  led  his  train 
on  'em  long  trips  for  many  years,  finally  conquered. 
Arter  giving  the  other  a  last  scolding,  he  took  his 
place  at  the  head,  and  the  entire  body  sailed  away  to 
the  westward.  For  some  time  after  they  had  got 
started  I  could  hear  their  furious  scolding  and  fault- 
finding. With  all  this  confusion,  their  ranks  were 
unbroken  as  soon  as  they  had  got  started  ag'in 
And  as  the  wild  geese  fly,  so  do  they  swim  or 
march,  always  in  perfect  order." 

I  did  not  know  that  geese  ever  marched,"  said 
Alex.  "  I  have  noticed  that  they  generally  fly  in 
wedge-shaped  columns," 

''  It  be  not  to  your  discredit,  lad,  that  you  have 
ne'er  seen  geese  marching,  and  they  have  small 
credit  for  sich  doings.  But  the  truth  is  the  goose 
knows  the  value  o'  a  pair  o'  good  legs  as  well  as 
strong  wings.  Further  north  wild  geese  do  much  o' 
their  perambulg  ion  on  foot,  often  marching  many 
miles  together.  In  doing  this  they  always  have  a 
leader,  who  gives  out  his  orders  with  as  good  jedg- 
ment  as  an  officer  o'  a  body  0'  soldiers.  They  gin- 
erally  march  ten  abreast,  and  whenever  there  is  a 
chance  to  feed  they  fall  out  of  line,  at  a  signal  from 
their  chief,  but  not  at  any  other  cime.  At  a  word 
from  him,  they  resume  their  places,  each  goose  being 


mtmtm 


206 


TNE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


keerful  to  get  back  into  his  ol'  position.  If  they 
should  come  to  a  body  o'  water,  they'd  swim  acrost 
as  they  marched,  ten  geese  wide.  I've  known  a  flock 
to  march  twelve  miles  in  a  day." 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


RUNNING   THE    RAPIDS. 

"  Hark  !  unless  my  ol'  ears  deceive  me,  I  hear  the 
roar  o'  rapids  ahead." 

As  the  words  indicate,  the  speaker  was  the  Wood- 
ranger,  though  the  time  and  the  scene  has  changed 
since  last  we  met  him  in  company  with  Rob  Rogers 
and  Alex  Briant  on  the  bank  of  the  Stewiacke.     It 
is  now  the  evening  of  the  succeeding  night,  and  the 
fugitives  are  no  longer  following  the  devious  wind- 
ings of  the  tributary  of  the  Subenacadie,  but  are 
moving  cautiously  down  the  west  branch  of  the  St. 
Mary's  River,  which  empties  its  waters  into  the  bay 
by  that  name  above  the  town  of  Sherbrooke.  It  had 
been  the  original  plan  of  Mr.  Briant  to  strike  across 
the  country  so  as  to  reach  one  of  the  streams  running 
into  Northumberland   Straits,  and  thence  down  the 
river  and  up  the   straits  to  a  small  settlement  of 
Scots  on   Barney  River.     But  his  condition  would 
not  admit  of  making  such  a  long  overland  journey, 
and  when  the  Stewiacke  had  been  followed  to  its 
source,  it  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  bear  the 

207 


208 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


trip  of  a  few  miles  to  the  head  waters  of  the  St. 
Mary's,  though  borne  on  a  rude  litter  by  his  com- 
panions. Two  trips  had  been  necessitated  on  the 
part  of  the  Woodranger  and  Rob,  but  this  had  been 
accomplished,  and  the  little  party,  still  divided,  had 
started  down  the  latter  river  with  rising  courage  as 
the  end  of  the  tedious  journey  began  to  draw  near. 
At  a  small  settlement  of  English  near  the  mouth  of 
this  stream,  it  was  believed  the  fugitives  would  meet 
with  a  cordial  welcome  and  protection. 

As  the  Woodranger  uttered  his  announcement  of 
the  sound  of  falls  in  the  river  not  far  distant,  he 
steered  the  canoe  in  toward  the  right  bank,  where 
he  and  Alex  held  it  up  against  the  current,  while  the 
three  —  Briant  still  being  one  of  their  number  — 
listened  for  a  proof  of  his  statement.  The  moon 
was  still  far  below  the  horizon,  and  the  sky  cloudy, 
so  that  it  was  too  dark  to  see  distinctly,  but  the 
steady  roar  of  rushing  water  was  borne  to  their  ears. 

"  It  sounds  as  if  there  were  falls  of  several  feet  in 
height,"  said  Briant,  "though  I  did  not  know  that 
the  St.  Mary  had  any  cataracts  which  could  not  be 
made  by  canoe." 

"The  sound  is  too  broken  to  be  made  by  a  single 
fall,"  declared  the  Woodranger.  "  I  jedge  there  be 
rapids,  and  not  far  away,  though  it  be  indiscreet  in 
me  to  say  what  in  all  consistency  I  can  ne'er  know. 
I  wonder  where  Rob  is." 


•■*-/afcv»5.i"?«ii,*.i£-  ■ 


RUNNING    THE  RAPIDS. 


209 


As  the  Woodranger  concludetl  his  speech,  he  gave 
expression  to  one  of  the  signals  so  well  untlerstood 
by  him  and  Rob,  and  then  bent  his  head  to  catch 
the  reply,  which  came  with  more  promptness  than  he 
had  expected.  It  not  only  told  him  that  the  others 
were  following  them  in  safety,  but  that  they  were 
not  far  behind. 

"  Mebbe  we'd  better  climb  down  the  brook  t  leetle, 
and  sort  o'  s'arch  out  the  way.  Rob  will  follow  with 
proper  discretion.  Alack  !  how  narvous  I  be  getting 
o'er  what  in  all  consistency  can  ne'er  be  o'ermuch ! 
I  s'pose  it  be  the  weakness  which  cones  with  one's 
years." 

Saying  this,  which  was  spoken  more  to  himself 
than  his  companions,  the  Woodranger  turned  the 
prow  of  the  canoe  back  into  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  and  the  passage  down  the  St.  Mary's  was 
resumed.  Since  leaving  the  Subenacadie  they  had 
penetrated  into  a  region  of  dense  growth  comprising 
pine,  spruce,  birch,  beech,  and  maple,  a  tract  of 
country  which  has  since  been  not  inaptly  designated 
as  "  Edenland."  On  the  summer  night  the  aroma  of 
the  resinous  woods  lay  heavy  on  the  fragrant  air, 
while  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  silence  was  the 
constant  roar  of  the  stream,  which  grew  louder  and 
deeper  in  volume  as  they  sped  on.  At  places  the 
stream  spread  out  into  little  coves,  wi.'ire  the  water 
was  calm  and  the  light  sufficient  for  the  canoeists  to 


2IO 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER, 


i 


catch  a  passing  gleam  of  their  surrouiidings.  These 
places  were  invariably  succeeded  by  a  narrowing  of 
the  stream  and  swiftness  of  the  current,  which  made 
it  necessary  for  the  Woodranger  and  Alex  to  exer- 
cise their  utmost  strength  to  keep  the  slight  boat 
right  side  up  and  clear  of  the  rocky  heads  thrust 
forbiddingly  above  the  foaming  waters.  At  these 
points  where  the  light  was  needed  most,  the  trees 
overhung  the  banks,  until  their  branches  interlocked, 
and  the  dangerous  course  was  made  as  dark  as  possi- 
ble under  a  starless  sky. 

The  roar  of  the  rapids  was  now  becoming  terrific, 
telling  them  that  they  were  close  down  to  the  series 
of  cataracts,  which  every  indication  showed  were  im- 
passable in  the  light  skiff  under  them.  Accordingly, 
the  Woodranger  watched  for  the  next  favourable 
place  for  landing  the  canoe,  and  soon  ran  the  boat 
in  toward  the  bank.  Springing  out  into  the  shal- 
low water,  he  pulled  the  light  craft  up  under  the 
overhanging  foliage,  where  he  held  it,  saying  to  his 
companions  : 

"  We  shall  have  to  make  this  a  carrying-place,  and 
if  you'll  keep  a  lookout  for  the  others,  lad,  I'll  get 
your  father  ashore." 

This  had  to  be  shouted  in  a  loud  tone,  and,  while 
Alex  signified  his  readiness  to  obey,  the  lorester  pre- 
pared to  carry  out  his  intentions.  While  they  were 
doing  this,  Rob   and   Jean  Vallie  were  having  the 


'^isi^saafea^fes^iate 


"-^    '—'■^-  ...-*.v^^T, 


RUNNING    THE  RAPIDS. 


211 


same  struggle  experienced  by  the  others  to  keep 
their  canoe  from  being  dashed  upon  the  rocks.  This 
they  accomplished  sue  essfully  until  they  were  nearly 
down  to  the  stopping-place  of  their  companions, 
when  a  peculiar  accident  occurred  which  completely 
baffled  their  efforts,  and  gave  our  hero  more  than  he 
could  do. 

In  passing  one  of  the  narrows  in  the  stream,  the 
canoe  was  sent  in  close  to  the  right  bank,  though 
Jean  managed  to  save  it  from  being  hurled  against 
the  rocky  barrier.  But  the  boat  lurched  so  that 
Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  would  have  been  thrown  out 
into  the  raging  water  but  for  a  superhuman  effort  on 
their  part  and  that  of  Rob.  At  this  critical  moment, 
when  "iO  much  was  depending  on  the  exertions  of 
Jean,  he  felt  a  furious  blow  upon  the  side  of  his 
neck,  and  the  next  instant  he  was  lifted,  as  if  by  a 
gigantic  hand,  into  mid-air,  and  sent  flying  through 
space. 

Though  it  was  too  dark  to  see  what  had  taken 
place,  Rob  was  quickly  aware  of  some  disaster  to  his 
companion,  since  the  canoe,  no  longer  guided  by  his 
paddle,  swiftly  spun  around  stern  foremost.  This 
was  done  with  such  a  force  and  velocity  that  it 
seemed  a  miracle  none  of  the  three  left  in  the  birchen 
boat  was  sent  head-first  into  the  rushing  water. 

Mrs.  Briant  and  Mab  both  screamed  in  their  fright, 
and  Rob,  anticipating  what  lay  in  their  pathway  from 


■'r*»»K 


212 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


the  deafening  thunder  of  falling  water,  attempted  to 
retrieve  something  of  what  they  had  lost.  But,  caught 
in  the  rapid  current,  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep 
the  canoe  from  being  dashed  on  the  rocks,  to  say 
nothing  of  checking  its  mad  career.  In  the  midst 
of  his  futile  struggles  the  cries  of  Alex  Briant  rang 
in  his  ears : 

"  Hold  on  —  the  rapids  —  the  rapids !  " 

The  Woodranger  caught  a  passing  glance  of  the 
runaway  canoe  as  it  swept  past  and  went  out  of 
sight,  careening  over  until  the  gunwales  lipped  the 
water.  Leaving  Alex  to  remain  with  his  father,  he 
ran  down  the  river  bank  in  the  hope  of  being  of 
some  assistance  to  the  castaways. 

As  the  canoe  sped  forward  on  its  wild  career,  car- 
ried on  with  frightful  velocity  into  perils  of  which 
Rob  was  in  entire  ignorance,  except  for  that  fearful 
warning  from  the  roaring  waters,  he  first  tried  to 
check  the  furious  advance  by  the  vigorous  use  of  his 
paddle.  But  he  soon  found  that  at  the  most  he 
could  only  guide  the  course  of  the  runaway  craft, 
and  trust  to  his  strong  arm  and  the  strength  of  the 
frail  boat  to  carry  him  and  his  companions  to  the 
foot  of  the  descent.  He  knew  that  the  canoe  had 
been  well  built,  and  that  its  very  lightness  was  likely 
to  stand  it  in  good  stead  now. 

Still,  the  rugged  banks  of  the  rapid  stream  were 
set  with  rocky  angles,  and  huge  boulders  were  scat- 


■T!ltirM-'m&i!iiS£:y 


ittempted  to 
But,  caught 
I  do  to  keep 
)cks,  to  say 
[n  the  midst 
Briant  rang 


;lance  of  the 
went  out  of 
s  lipped  the 
lis  father,  he 
of  being  of 

I  career,  car- 
ils  of  which 
that  fearful 
irst  tried  to 
X3  use  of  his 
he  most  he 
naway  craft, 
■ngth  of  the 
lions  to  the 
e  canoe  had 
is  was  likely 

stream  were 
■s  were  scat- 


RUNNING   THE  RAPIDS. 

tered  along  the  watery  course.  Rob  saw  little  of  his 
surroundings,  as  he  was  carried  on  with  increasing 
velocity,  but  he  saw  enough  to  know  the  peril  that 
encompassed  him,  and  that  his  only  hope  lay  in  keep- 
ing the  canoe  in  the  middle  of  the  stream.  The 
roar  of  rushing  water  was  now  terrific,  but  he  real- 
ised that  it  was  not  rising  any  higher  in  volume. 
This  fact  proved  to  him  that  there  was  no  cataract 
ahead.  There  being  no  high  falls,  it  was  not  impos- 
sible that  he  might  shoot  the  rapids  without  disaster, 

With  this  thought  givi  g  him  courage,  the  first 
stage  of  the  wild  journey  was  passed,  and  he  had 
managed  to  steer  clear  of  the  rocky  barriers  on  either 
hand.  He  no  longer  thought  oi  trying  even  to 
check  the  speed  with  which  the  boat  was  drawn 
downward  by  the  current  with  the  velocity  of  an 
arrow. 

Suddenly  a  louder  uproar  of  the  stormy  current 
rang  in  his  ears,  and  a  cloud  of  spray  was  flung  into 
his  face.  The  dark  outlLres  of  a  huge  rock  rising 
from  the  middle  of  the  stream  stood  out  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  foreground  of  foaming  waters,  and  he 
struggled  with  all  his  strength  to  turn  the  canoe 
aside  into  the  right  branch  of  the  divided  current. 
But  no  arm  could  avail  against  such  a  power.  The 
canoe  spun  half-way  around  iu  spite  of  him.  Then 
it  was  driven  against  the  stony  obstruction,  and,  held 
there  by  the  force  of  the  current,  remained  motion- 


pip 


' 


'm 


214 


rj/E    YOUNG   GUN3EARER. 


less  for  the  time.  But  her  side  had  been  stove  in, 
and  the  water  poured  through  upon  the  occupant ;. 

Realising  that  the  canoe  was  lost,  Rob  thought 
next  of  saving  the  lives  of  those  with  him.  With 
that  presence  of  mind  which  was  a  part  of  his  nature, 
he  flung  his  paddle  toward  the  shore,  and,  picking  up 
his  gun,  sent  that  after  it,  following  this  with  Jean's 
musket.  He  then  shouted  to  Mrs.  Briant  to  cling 
to  the  rock,  while  he  clasped  Mab  in  one  arm  and 
climbed  upon  the  boulder.  Accomplishing  this  feat, 
he  was  in  season  to  assist  Mrs.  Briant  to  a  3^at 
beside  him. 

Lightened  of  its  burden,  the  canoe  heeled  around 
into  the  current.  Tossed  for  a  moment  on  the 
stormy  surface  of  the  stream,  in  another  instant  it 
was  swept  down  into  the  whirlpool  of  water?.,  to  be 
seen  no  more,  carrying  with  it  all  they  had  possessed, 
except  the  weapons. 

Mab  was  crying  in  Rob's  arms,  so  he  placed  her  in 
the  clasp  of  her  mother.  Then  he  shouted  to  them 
to  have  courage.  The  reply  cf  the  brave  woman 
was  drowned  by  the  sound  of  the  rapids. 

Rob  was  trying  to  get  a  better  idea  of  their  situa- 
tion, in  the  hope  of  finding  some  way  to  reach  the 
bank  of  the  river,  when  the  voice  of  the  Woodranger 
came  faintly  to  his  ears  above  the  roar  of  the  water. 
His  reply  was  answered  by  another  cry  from  his 
friend,  who  soon  after  appeared  on  the  bank  opposite 


1  stove  in, 
:upant;. 
b  thought 
m.  With 
bis  nature, 
picking  up 
nth  Jean's 
t  to  cling 
!  arm  and 
;  this  feat 
to  a   iv.t 

ed  around 
it  on  the 
instant  it 
:erf.,  to  be 
possessed, 

ced  her  in 
;d  to  them 
^^e  woman 

heir  situa- 
reach  the 
ood ranger 
the  water, 
from  his 
k  opposite 


RUNNING    THE  RAPIDS.  215 

him.  The  width  of  the  .stream  proved  less  than  had 
been  expected,  and  fifteen  uiinutes  later  the  three  en 
the  rock  had  gained  the  river  bank  beside  the  Wood- 
ranger,  who  listened  to  Rob's  account  of  their  dan- 
gerous prssage  of  the  rapids  with  more  surprise  than 
he  was  accustomed  to  display. 

"It  br  a  miracle  none  o'  you  were  lost,  and  I 
count  that  to  the  strong  arm  o'  Rob.  The  birch  be 
gone,  but  let  us  not  repine,  for  there  be  the  other 
remaining.  That  reminds  me  o'  'em  I  left  so  un- 
ceremoniously with  it.  Mebbe  we'J  better  pt.ambu- 
late  back  and  see  how  it  be  with  'em." 

"And  find  Jean,  if  he  is  dead  or  alive,"  said  Rob. 
"I  can't  understand  what  happened  to  him.  It 
seemed  just  as  if  a  mighty  hand  had  reached  down 
and  taken  him  from  ^he  canoe." 

Iheir  hearts  were  filled  with  thanksgiving  over 
their  escape,  although  they  felt  great  anxiety  over 
the  unknown  fate  of  the  faithful  Basque,  as  they 
started  back  up  the  bank  of  the  St.  Mary's,  after 
having  found  the  firearms  Rob  had  flung  ashore. 
These  were  uninjured,  greatly  to  their  delight. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


A    RIDE    ON    A    MOOSE. 


The  Woodranger  led  the  way  in  silence  to  where 
he  had  left  Alex  and  his  father,  and  found  them 
arLxiously  awaiting  the  appearance  of  their  friends. 

"  Have  all  escaped  ? "  asked  Mr.  Briant,  as  soon 
as  he  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  others, 
though  he  could  not  distinguish  them  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

"  If  we  'cept  Jean,  that  be  the  truth.  In  all  con- 
sistency we  shall  soon  know  the  sort  o'  amazement 
he  has  fallen  inf^  Mebbe  Rob  and  I  won't  be  gone 
long." 

Leaving  the  reunited  family  to  exchange  congratu- 
lations and  express  their  sympathy  with  each  other, 
the  Woodranger  and  Rob  advanced  up  the  bank  of 
the  stream  in  search  of  the  missing  man.  While 
Rob  felt  quite  confident  that  Jean  had  not  fallen  into 
the  river,  it  seemed  very  probable  that  he  had,  and 
at  that  moment  his  mangled  body  might  be  tossed  at 
the  mercy  of  the  rapidf  far  below  them.  Still,  he 
and  the  Woodranger  pursued  their  search  with  dili- 

216 


A  RIDE   ON  A  MOOSE. 


217 


e  to  where 
und  them 
friends, 
t,  as  soon 
he  others, 
the  dark- 

In  all  con- 
imazement 
I't  be  gone 

;  congratu- 
ach  other, 
le  bank  of 
I.  While 
fallen  into 
t  had,  and 
I  tossed  at 
Still,  he 
\  with  dili- 


gence, and  in  the  midst  of  it  they  were  glad  to  hear 
a  cry  which  they  recognised  as  coming  from  Jean. 

A  minute  later  they  found  the  Basque  sitting  bolt 
upright  on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  rubbing  his  head 
and  giving  expression  to  exclamations   of   mingled 
surprise  and  pain.     Jean  was  not  seriously  injured, 
but  he  was  so  confused  and  bewildered  by  his  adven- 
ture that  it  was  some   time  before  he  could  even 
stand  on  his  feet.     In  answer  to  Rob's  inquiry,  all 
the  explanation  he  could  give  of  the  affair  was  that 
he  had  received  a  terrific  blow  on   the  side  of  his 
head  and  neck,  and  that  he  seemed  to  have  been 
suddenly  lifted  from  the  canoe  and  flung  backward 
into  the  forest,  where  he  had  fallen  with  such  force 
as  to  be  rendered  unconscious  for  awhile.     In  their 
haste  to  get  started  again  on  their  journey,  none  of 
them  made  a  thorough  examination  of  the  scene  to 
ascertain  just  what  had  befallen  Jean,  but  all  agreed 
that  he  had  been  struck  by  so-ne  tree  bowed  over 
the  stream,  and  that  the  force  of  the  blow  had  not 
only  carried  him  from  the  canoe,  but  landed  him  on 
the  bank  of  the  river.     As  long  as  he  had  escaped 
with  his  life,  it  did  not  matter  just  how  it  Vad  been 
done.     It  was  sufficient  that  the  generous  Jean  had 
not  suffered  any  more  serious  harm,  though  it  would 
be  several  days  before  the  pain  of  the  blow  would 
cease. 

Upon  returning  to  Mr.  Briant  and  his  family,  a 


2I8 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


■i% 


short  consultation  was  held,  the  conclusion  reached 
being  that  there  was  but  one  course  for  them  to 
pursue.  They  must  go  on  with  the  one  remaining 
canoe,  after  having  carried  it  below  the  rapids. 
From  that  place  it  was  decided  best  for  the  fugitives 
to  keep  on  toward  their  destination  without  the 
Woodranger  and  Rob,  both  of  whom  felt  that  it  was 
their  duty  to  hasten  on  toward  Main-i-Dieu  with  as 
little  loss  of  time  as  possible.  If  the  Woodranger 
had  personal  reasons  for  suggesting  a  division  of  the 
party  so  quickly,  none  but  Rob  mistrusted  it,  and  he 
wisely  remained  silent.  He  saw  clearly  the  need  of 
greater  haste  in  reaching  the  threatened  settlement., 
and  was  nr>t  adverse  to  agreeing  to  what  his  com- 
panion suggested. 

Having  decided  upon  their  course  of  action,  no 
further  time  was  lost  in  carrying  out  the  plan.  First 
of  all  the  remaining  canoe,  with  such  portables  as 
they  had  taken  in  it,  must  be  transferred  to  the  river 
below  the  rapids,  and  as  Jean,  who  still  felt  unable 
to  lend  his  assistance,  volunteered  to  remain  with 
the  Briants,  Rob  and  the  Woodranger  went  on  the 
first  trip  down  the  forest. 

Jean  was  not  one  to  bewail  his  fate,  and  while  his 
head  felt  pretty  sore,  his  heart  was  as  light  as  ever, 
and  he  declared  that  he  would  be  strong  enough  to 
move  with  the  rest  as  soon  as  their  friends  should 
return. 


\    f; 


':mw 


A   RIDE  ON  A  MOOSE. 


219 


\  reached 
them  to 
remaining 
le  rapids. 
;  fugitives 
thout  the 
hat  it  was 
:u  with  as 
oodranger 
ion  of  the 
it,  and  he 
e  need  of 
ettlement.. 
his  com- 

actioii,  no 
an.  First 
rtables  as 
)  the  river 
elt  unable 
Tiain  with 
:nt  on  the 

i  while  his 
jt  as  ever, 
enough  to 
ds  should 


"  That  was  a  short  ride  compared  to  one  I  took  on 
the  back  of  a  moose  when  1  was  a  youngster,  and 
that  clip  on  the  head  was  nothing  compared  to  the 
blow  I  received  then.  Want  to  hear  the  story,  eh. 
Mademoiselle  Mabel  >  Perhaps  it  will  keep  the  time 
from  hanging  heavily  on  our  handf  while  we  wait  for 
the  New  Englanders  to  return.  But,  upon  my  word, 
it  had  quite  escaped  my  memory  till  this  foolish  little 
matter  recalled  it. 

"As  I  began  by  saying  I  was  a  youngster  when 
the  adventure  I  am  going  to  describe  took  place,  I 
will  explain  further  that  I  had  joined  the  fortunes 
of  a  party  of  moose-hunters  who  had  set  out  from 
near  Port  Royal  to  hunt  deer  on  the  Perot,  which 
was  at  that  time  a  great  stamping-ground  for  the 
animals.  It  was  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  the  snow 
lay  two  or  three  feet  deep  on  the  ground.  But  we 
didn't  mind  the  snow  with  our  snow-shoes,  which 
were  long  and  narrow  like  the  ones  made  by  the 
Micmacs,  a  framework  o;  ash  wood  woven  across 
with  deer-thongs,  and  strips  of  the  same  stout  mate- 
rial to  hold  them  on. 

"  The  second  night  found  us  camped  on  the  Perot, 
the  snow  scraped  away  to  the  ground  for  a  circle  a 
dozen  feet  in  diameter,  and  ourselves  as  comfortable 
as  possible  in  our  fur  robes  and  che  cheery  fire  made 
of  moose  wood,'     Our  guide,  who  was  a  half -Indian, 

'  Maple. 


fe-?::. 


2  20 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


a  shrewd,  cautious  fellow,  had  discovered  signs  of 
deer  that  afternoon,  and  he  assured  us  the  herd  was 
ied  by  an  old  moose  of  great  size.  In  my  youth 
and  inexperience,  I  expressed  my  disappointment  at 
not  following  up  the  trail  instead  of  settling  down  to 
camp  an  hour  before  sunset.  But  Injun  Joe  shook 
his  head,  saying: 

•"Mebbe  moose  come  to  us  while  wait;  better'n 
running  after  him.     Morrer  see.' 

"  I  had  to  learn  then  that  moose  do  not  wander  so 
very  far  from  their  feeding-grounds,  unless  driven  oil 
by  enemies  or  forced  to  change  their  base  on  account 
of  a  scarcity  of  herbage.  When  the  snow  becomes 
very  deep,  or  a  crust  forms  on  it  so  it  is  hard  to 
move  about,  the  moose  belonging  to  the  herd  unite 
in  tramping  down  the  snow  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, sometimes  making  an  area  a  mile  in  circuit,  so 
the  weaker  portion  of  their  number  can  browse  at 
will  upon  the  young  trees.  These  places  are  called 
deer-yards,  and  it  is  one  of  the  prettiest  sights  I  ever 
saw  to  witness  a  herd  of  these  innocent  creatures 
skipping  about  for  their  breakfast,  nibbling  first  at 
ore  tree  and  then  another,  the  old  moose  looking 
on  at  some  conspicuous  place  like  a  sentry  on  duty, 
sniffing  the  air  every  now  and  then  in  anticipation  of 
danger. 

"Well,  anxious  as  I  was  to  be  on  hand  in  the  chase 
which  we  expected  the  following  morning,  I  slept 


f:A 


A  RfDE  ON  A  MOOSE. 


221 


d  signs  of 
e  herd  was 

my  youth 
lintment  at 
ig  down  to 

Joe  shook 

t ;   better'n 

wander  so 
I  driven  oiT 
on  account 
w  becomes 
is  hard  to 
herd  unite 
erable  dis- 
circuit,  so 
browse  at 
are  called 
jhts  I  ever 
:  creatures 
ng  first  at 
se  looking 
•y  on  duty, 
cipation  of 

1  the  chase 
ig,  I  slept 


soundly  after  the  previous  day's  tramp  until  I  was 
awakened  by  a  shake  from  Injun  Joe.  Starting  up, 
I  looked  around  as  if  expecting  to  see  the  old  moose 
and  his  family  right  before  me.  Although  I  didn't 
see  any  such  sight,  I  was  soon  apprised  by  Joe  of 
the  fact  that  the  whole  herd  was  browsing  less  tnan 
half  a  mile  to  the  south  of  us.  Early  as  it  was,  he 
had  been  on  a  little  trip  of  discovery,  and  had  just 
got  back. 

"  It  had  been  thawing  for  two  or  three  days,  and, 
as  the  night  had  been  pretty  cold,  the  snow  had 
formed  a  crust  which  promised  to  bear  our  v/eights, 
so  no  one  stopped  to  put  on  his  snow-shoes.  Look- 
ing carefully  to  the  priming  of  our  firearms,  we  all 
rusheJ.  away  toward  our  prey,  each  foolishly  anxious 
to  fet  the  first  shot.  When  we  had  gone  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  our  guide  suddenly  stopped,  hold- 
ing up  his  left  hand  as  a  signal  for  us  to  do  the  same. 

"  We  hadn't  more  than  come  to  a  halt  before  we 
sighted  the  old  moose  and  his  followers  fleeing  across 
the  range  to  our  south.  The  sight  fired  our  blood, 
and,  like  a  party  of  half-wild  boys,  we  bounded  ahead 
eager  to  get  within  gunshot.  At  sight  of  us  the 
moose  headed  farther  away,  though  he  was  not  in 
season  to  escape  being  the  target  of  every  gun  in 
that  company  of  hunters.  But  if  he  was  hit,  not  a 
shot  took  effect  enough  to  check  in  the  least  his 
flight. 


222 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


., 


"  In  the  excitement  of  the  occasion  I  heard  Injun 
Joe  cry  out  that  the  moose  would  try  to  reach  one  of 
the  valleys  on  our  right,  and  that  we  had  better  heaa 
in  that  direction  if  we  wished  to  get  another  shot. 
The  fact  that  he  had  started  on  that  course,  more 
than  his  words,  caused  me  to  change  toward  the 
west,  though  the  majority  of  our  party  kept  on  toward 
the  south.  I  saw  or  heard  nothing  more  of  them 
until  I  had  passed  through  one  of  the  most  thrilling 
experiences  of  my  life. 

"  I  soon  found  that  I  was  nowhere  in  a  race  with 
Injun  Joe,  though  I  had  often  boasted  of  my  ability 
as  a  runner.  He  seemed  to  skim  over  the  snow  like 
a  bird.  But  I  did  the  best  I  could,  and,  without  try- 
ing to  keep  in  his  footsteps,  sheered  more  to  my  left, 
in  the  hope  I  should  be  fortunate  enough  to  cut  off 
the  fleeing  moose  ahead  of  him !  Though  I  am  now 
familiar  with  every  foot  of  that  country,  it  was  new  to 
me  then,  and  in  the  midst  of  my  headlong  pursuit 
I  suddenly  found  myself  on  the  brink  of  a  sheer 
descent  of  nearly  twenty  feet. 

"  I  tried  to  stop  myself  the  moment  I  realised  my 
predicament,  but  I  was  going  at  such  a  furious  gait 
that,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  I  was  carried  over 
the  edge  of  the  rock  into  the  depths  below.  In  the 
brief  interval,  when  I  had  seemed  suspended  on  the 
brow  of  the  cliff,  I  caught  sight  of  the  tree-tops 
below,  and  coming  through  the  scattering  growth  I 


B       ■'^'i- 


m 


mm 


card  Injun 
:ach  one  of 
jetter  heaa 
ather  shot, 
urse,  more 
oward  the 
on  toward 
e  of  them 
ist  thrilling 

1  race  with 
my  ability 

2  snow  like 
without  try- 
to  my  left, 
1  to  cut  off 
[  I  am  now 
was  new  to 
mg  pursuit 
of  a  sheer 

ealised  my 
urious  gait 
arried  over 
w.  In  the 
ded  on  the 
e  tree-tops 
y  growth  I 


A   KIDE   ON  A   MOOSE. 


223 


had  a  glimpse  of  the  herd,  with  the  old  moose  in 
the  lead. 

"After  a  suffocating  sensation  lasting  for  a  few 
seconds,  I  found  my  descent  abruptly  broken,  and 
myself  astride  of  a  moving  object.  It  must  have 
been  more  instinct  than  anything  else  that  caused 
me  to  hold  fast  to  the  first  thing  my  hands  touched, 
while  I  was  borne  on  at  a  pace  which  put  to  shame 
my  powers  of  locomotion. 

"  I  had  been  carried  a  considerable  distance  before 
I  recovered  enough  to  know  that  I  was  taking  the 
strangest  ride  I  had  ever  known.  My  steed  was  the 
moose,  flying  at  the  head  of  his  train,  and  I  barely 
keot  from  being  thrown  by  clinging  to  his  big  ears ! 

"  When  I  had  recovered  sufficient  to  realise  my 
position,  I  saw  that  the  old  monarch  of  the  woods 
was  more  startled  than  I,  though  I  felt  that  my 
position  was  extremely  dangerous.  Besides  the  dan- 
ger of  falling  off  and  being  trampled  under  the  feet 
of  him  and  his  followers,  I  was  likely  to  be  struck  by 
the  branches  of  the  trees  and  hurled  senseless  to  the 
ground. 

"  An  old  bull-moose  is  generally  a  tough  customer 
to  grapple  with,  and  I  always  prefer  to  have  them  at 
good  gunshot,  with  a  weapon  that  I  can  depend  on. 
But  there  I  was,  and,  when  the  first  shock  of  my  fall 
was  over,  I  began  to  calculate  on  my  chances  of 
escaping  with  my  life.     I  had  dropped  my  gun  when 


'»^^r«t@S^Sf®ffiSK<: ' 


■■eai 


mt^ 


334 


r///i    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


r  i 


I  had  gone  headlong  over  the  cliff,  but  I  did  have 
with  mc  a  kcen-bladed  knife  that  I  carried  iti  those 
days.  The  moose  was  making  such  tremendous 
leaps,  as  he  bounded  ahead,  that  I  hardly  dared  to 
loosen  my  hold  enough  to  use  the  knife.  With 
terrific  snorts  of  mingled  rage  and  terror,  his  head 
laid  back  so  his  huge  antlers  almost  hit  against  me, 
he  bounded  madly  forward.  I  had  been  told  that  so 
great  is  the  endurance  of  a  moose  that  he  can  run 
for  a  hundred  miles  without  stopping.  My  hair 
fairly  stood  on  end  as  I  thought  of  a  hundred-mile 
race  like  that  I  Presently  I  became  aware  of  one 
thing  which  afforded  me  considerable  consola'-on. 
The  crust  on  the  snow  was  decidedly  against  b  s 
he  broke  through  at  every  step,  and  the  sharp  -..ov.» 
of  the  flint-like  surface  must  be  cutting  deep  gashes 
into  his  legs. 

"  After  going  a  distance  that  I  afterward  found  to 
be  nearly  half  a  dozen  miles,  we  came  in  sight  of  a 
thick  wood,  where  I  could  see  the  branches  of  the 
trees  grew  low,  and  were  in  many  places  held  down 
by  loads  of  frozen  snow.  I  honestly  think  the  old 
moose  hailed  this  cover  with  delight,  for  he  actually 
quickened  his  gait  at  sight  of  the  deep  woods.  He 
must  have  known  from  experience  that  l>e  would  find 
the  crust  softer  and  thinner  there,  while  who  knows 
but  that  he  anticipated  ridding  himself  of  his  unnat- 
ural burden  by  means  of  the  friendly  trees  ? 


^ajf 


-»'4fii-   -!•«?»:•  *-^ 


I  did  have 
d  ill  those 
remendous 
{  dared  to 
ife.  With 
r,  his  head 
tjainst  me, 
old  that  so 
e  can  run 
My  hair 
ndred-mile 
re  of  one 
:)nsola'''')n. 
ist  b  s 
larp  -..ov-a 
:ep  gashes 

d  found  to 
sight  of  a 
les  of  the 
tield  down 
k  the  old 
e  actually 
5ods.  He 
would  find 
/ho  knows 
his  unnat- 


'»—, 

'•  '  I    i.RT    GO  OF    ONE    EAR    AND    GRASPED    MY    KNIFE,'    " 


J 


■liiiiiriwtfjrrrrtffljrifv  iff  ;|n^iri(irririTTrrin  Will  laiijiriijiM^^ 


"nl 


A  RIDE   ON  A  MOOSE. 


335 


"  I  knew  that  my  career  would  meet  with  a  speedy 
end  unless  I  did  something  to  save  myself.  So  I  let 
go  of  one  ear  and  grasped  my  knife  with  my  -■^..., 
hand.  I  thought  just  back  of  the  fore  shoulder 
would  be  the  best  place  for  me  to  strike,  and  I  gave 
all  the  energy  I  could  to  the  stroke,  burying  the 
blade  up  to  the  handle.  The  red  blood  spurted  up 
into  my  face,  and  the  big  creature  trembled  and 
reeled  for  a  moment,  but  rallied  with  a  furious  snort, 
and  sped  on  at  a  wilder  pace  than  befo'-e.  The  next 
instant  I  was  dealt  a  terrific  blow,  and  while  the  air 
seemed  filled  with  dancing  stars  I  was  sent  into  the 
snow  a  dozen  feet  away,  where  I  lay  unconscious. 

"  When  I  returned  to  consciousness  Injun  Joe  was 
bendmg  over  me,  and  my  head  seemed  swollen  to 
twice  its  natural  size.  The  blow  I  got  to-night  was 
nothing  compared  to  it.  But  after  awhile  I  managed 
to  sit  up,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  rest  of  the 
party  came  along.  I  learned  then  that  the  other 
moose  had  escaped,  though  the  old  fellow  who  had 
given  me  such  a  ride  lay  dead  a  short  distance  away. 
My  thrust  had  proved  fatal,  thoagh  it  had  not  been 
dealt  quick  enough  to  save  me  that  blow  from  the 
trees.  Still,  the  fact  tha  I  had  really  bagged  my 
game,  while  none  of  the  rest  had  been  successful  in 
even  getting  one  of  the  cows,  did  much  toward 
mending  my  hurt,  and  in  half  an  hour  I  was  helping 
in  the  work  of  taking  off  the  mooi^^'s  skin.     He  was 


i  I 


f  < 


-^-^4;i3-3agK^a«^'4Sabyss3ss^sffe^»n- 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 


THE    ARM    OF    GOLD. 


The  Woodi anger  and  Rob  reported  that,  about 
a  mile  below,  the  river  again  became  passable  for  a 
canoe,  and  it  was  the  belief  of  the  party  that  no 
further  rapids  would  be  found.  Jean  had  so  far 
recovered  from  his  accident  that  he  was  able  to 
assist  in  carrying  Mr.  Briant,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  entire  party  was  moving  silently  down 
through  the  deep  woods,  whose  dim  forest  aisles  had 
perhaps  never  before  been  entered  by  a  white  man. 
Little  Mab  kept  close  to  her  mother,  while  it  was  not 
thought  prudent  for  any  of  the  part  to  get  separated 
from  the  others,  as  wild  beasts  were  liable  to  be  met 
at  any  time,  while  it  was  not  improbable  that  Indians 
might  be  prowling  in  that  vicinity. 

The  portage,  however,  was  made  without  adven- 
ture or  mishap,  and  when  the  Woodranger  had  seen 
the  Briant  family  safely  in  the  canoe,  with  Jean 
Vallie  and  Alex  at  the  paddles,  he  looked  first  down 
the  stream,  and  then  longingly  away  into  the  track- 
less forest  stretching  away  to  the  eastward. 

•     127 


238 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  Mebbe  there  is  no  fitter  place  for  our  trails  to 
fork  than  here,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  seeing  it  must  come 
sooner  or  later.  I  opine  you'll  make  your  jarney  m 
goodish  shape.  Rob  and  I  will  perambulate  down 
to  Main4-Dieu ; "  and  before  the  others  could  reply 
his  tall  form  was  vanishing  in  the  darkness  of  the 
forest. 

Before  Rob  could  follow  his  friends  Briant  called 
him  to  his  side,  and,  clasping  his  hand,  said : 

"  May  you  be  successful  in  getting  to  Main-4-Dieu, 
and  if  we  never  meet  again  I  want  you  to  take  with 
you  my  blessing.  I  am  sorry  the  Woodranger  did 
not  stop  to  hear  my  thanks.  He  seems  like  an  odd 
sort  of  a  man,  but  I  know  his  heart  is  in  the  right 
place.  You  have  both  done  me  a  great  service,  and 
I  shall  never  forget  it.  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again, 
and  under  more  hopeful  circumstances.  Stay  ;  do  not 
leave  till  you  have  heard  what  I  wish  to  say.  Your 
friend  will  stop  for  you  before  he  goes  very  far.  I 
can  give  you  information  that  will  be  of  value  to  you 
in  this  long  trip  to  Main  4-Dieu.  You  have  nearly,  if 
not  quite,  a  hundred  miles  before  you.  I  am  very 
well  acquainted  with  L'Isle  Royale,  and  know  your 
best  route. 

"After  reaching  St.  George's  Channel,  which 
separates  New  Scotland  from  L'Isle  Royale,  you  will 
do  best  to  steer  for  that  inland  sea,  Le  Bn  o  d'Or. 
Thence  you  had  better  go  by  water  to  the  old  French 


rtUtortuftlfiwiiiiirf.- 


T 


mp'Mss 


Haimmm 


tgB»ggg»?sga.-jij»lw»jigaiWaMiWiw.j^ 


lin-il-Dieu, 
take  with 
anger  did 
ke  an  odd 
the  right 
rvice,  and 
eet  again, 
y ;  do  not 
y.     Your 
■y  far.     I 
ue  to  you 
nearly,  if 
am  very 
low  your 

1,   which 

you  will 

r.c  d'Or. 


rff£  ARM  OF  GOLD. 


339 


road  leading  to  St.  Louisburg,  leaving  that  road  at 
Miray  River  if  you  think  best.  You  can  get  a  canoe 
with  which  to  cross  T  e  Bras  d'Or  of  a  friend  of  mine 
named  James  Bruce,  if  you  tell  him  that  I  sent  you. 
I  need  not  warn  you  to  be  constantly  on  your  guard, 
for  you  are  too  gooa  a  woodsman  to  need  such  advice. 
Your  entire  journey  lies  through  the  enemy's  coun- 
try, though  there  are  a  few  Scotch  and  EngHsh 
people  scattered  over  the  island.  I  wish  you  God- 
speed." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  the  Acadian  ranger 
pressed  Rob's  hand  with  renewed  fervour,  and  then 
released  it,  while  the  others,  one  by  one,  bade  him 
farewell.  Mrs.  Briant  murmured  her  thanks,  and 
wished  him  and  the  Woodranger  a  safe  journey,  and 
Jean  Vallie,  honest  fellow  that  he  was,  wrung  our 
hero's  hand  in  silence. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again,"  said  Alex,  a  simple 
wish  which  was  to  be  answered  in  future  years,  but 
under  circumstances  of  which  neither  of  them  then 
dreamed.  A  minute  later  the  heavily  loaded  canoe 
was  gliding  rapidly  down  the  current  of  the  St.  Mary's 
while  Rob  was  hastening  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
Woodranger. 

"  You  tarried  with  'em,"  said  the  latter,  as  he 
overtook  him  a  few  rods  from  the  river.  "  Didst 
the  Acadian  let  drop  a  hint  or  inkling  o'  the  best 
trail  leading  to  Main-4-Dieu } " 


230 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


''He  did,  Woodranger,"  and,  as  they  moved  on 
t'.ieir  way,  he  repeated  what  Briant  had  said. 

"That  be  discreet  talk,  lad,"  declared  the  Wood- 
ranger,  as  Rob  concluded,  "  and  I  can  see  a  vein  o' 
wisdom  running  through  it  like  a  bar  o'  moonlight  on 
a  night  in  the  black  woods.  I  will  ne'er  dissemble, 
lad,  o'er  the  fact  that  it  does  these  ol'  legs  good  to 
get  on  foot  ag'in.  This  perambulating  by  the  birch 
be  convanient  at  times,  I'll  ne'er  previcate  ;  but  if 
I'm  always  glad  to  take  to  the  canoe,  when  there  be 
pproonal  p'ints  in  the  case,  I'm  always  jess  as  glad  to 
get  back  on  'arth  ag'in.  Arter  all,  there's  nothing 
for  a  long  perambulation  like  a  pair  o'  good  legs,  and 
no  man  can  have  good  legs  onless  he  makes  'em  'am 
their  sinews.  Nay,  lad,  the  best  legs  in  the  woods 
would  ne'er  have  the  sinews  o  a  pine  stick  if  they 
were  always  curled  up  in  a  blanket  like  a  worm  in  the 
hot  sand.  But  hear  my  ol'  tongue  running  like  a 
brook  in  the  spring-time,  when  we  have  so  much  that 
is  'arnest  work  ahead." 

With  these  words  the  Woodranger  relapsed  into 
silence,  and  he  and  Rob  kept  on  mile  after  mile  with 
steps  that  showed  no  signs  of  weariness.  Sr  a  after 
leaving  their  companions  they  reached  the  re  ..d,  little 
more  than  a  bridle-path  then,  running  parallel  with 
the  St.  Mary's.  Following  this  until  morning,  they 
came  to  the  road  from  Sherbrooke  to  Pictou,  which 
was  an  oft-travelled  route  between  Chebucto  and  the 


•:ir{:jsa£»*'«a»ii*;''^«»*«' ' 


THE  ARM  OF  COLD. 


231 


moved  on 
id. 

the  Wood- 
e  a  vein  o* 
oonlight  on 

dissemble, 
gs  good  to 
J  the  birch 
ite  ;  but  if 
n  there  be 

as  glad  to 
's  nothing 
i  legs,  and 
:s  'em  'arn 
the  woods 
ck  if  they 
arm  in  the 
ing  like  a 
nuch  that 

ipsed  into 
mile  with 
V  A  after 
c  .4  little 
allel  with 
ling,  they 
ou,  which 
0  and  the 


latter  town,  situated  on  the  bay  by  the  same  name. 
It  was  common  saying  in  those  days  that  "  all  roads 
led  to  Pictou,"  which  showed  the  importance  of  that 
settlement. 

Advancing  carefully,  they  soon  crossed  the  east 
branch  of  the  St.  Mary's,  and,  leaving  the  main  road 
to  Pictou,  moved  along  the  path  to  Chebucto  Bay. 
In  the  deep  woods  of  that  region,  having  seen  no 
signs  of  an  enemy,  the  two  ventured  to  stop,  and, 
shooting  some  birds,  built  a  fire  and  cooked  the  meat, 
which  they  ate  with  some  of  the  barley  bread  that 
they  still  carried  in  their  pouches.  When  they  had 
eaten  their  plain  dinner,  the  Woodranger  stretched 
himself  at  full  length  upon  the  ground  under  the 
cover  of  the  forest,  and  was  soon  asleep.  Rob  knew 
how  much  his  companion  needed  this  rest,  and  as  he 
had  fared  somewhat  better,  he  remained  awake  to 
keep  watch. 

Though  they  saw  no  signs  of  the  enemy,  French 
or  Indian,  they  were  in  a  country  whose  rivers  had 
often  run  red  with  the  blood  of  innocent  victims  slain 
by  the  Micmacs  in  their  raids  against  the  settlements 
of  the  adventurous  whites  who  had  sought  to  build 
them  homes  here.  Many  of  these  cruel  attacks,  it 
is  true,  had  taken  place  before  New  Scotland,  or 
L'Acadie,  as  it  was  then  called,  had  passed  under 
British  dominion.  But,  losing  this  part  of  their 
domains,  the  French  had  immediately  strengthened 


232 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


their  position  in  the  island  of  Cape  Breton,'  or  L'Tsle 
Royale,  as  they  prefered  to  itnow  it.  This  was  in 
such  close  proximity  to  the  region  about  Chebucto 
Bay,  which  was  the  great  resort  of  the  fishing-vessels 
of  New  England,  passing  to  and  from  the  fishing- 
grounds  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  that  it  remained  to  a 
great  extent  the  battle-ground  of  the  races. 

The  Woodranger  slept  two  hours,  with  the  peace- 
fulness  of  a  child,  when  he  awoke  greatly  refreshed, 
and  declared  that  they  must  resume  their  perilous 
march.  It  was  not  the  nature  of  the  woodsman  to 
inquire  into  the  reasons  of  a  companion  for  doing  or 
not  doing  a  certain  work,  and  he  did  not  ask  if  Rob 
had  slept  well,  or  if  he  had  slept  at  all.  He  really 
knew  that  he  hadn't,  but  in  his  heart  he  was  none 
the  less  grateful  for  the  sacrifice  of  his  friend.  In 
the  end  Rob  knew  he  would  not  lose  by  it. 

While  it  might  be  interesting  to  follow  the  journey 
of  Rob  and  the  Woodranger  in  its  details,  I  must 
refrain  from  doing  so.  At  Manchester,  situated  near 
the  mouth  of  an  inlet  of  Chebucto  Bay,  they  were 
fortunate  enough  to  run  across  a  man  from  New 
England  who  gladly  took  them  down  the  bay  and  up 
the  channel,  then  known  to  the  French  as  "  Le  Pas- 

•  So  named  by  its  first  settlers,  who  had  come  from  Bretaigne, 
France,  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  in  honour  of  their 
homeland,  and  first  applied  to  one  of  the  points  of  land.  It  is 
thought  to  be  the  oldest  French  name  on  the  American  continent. 


-w 


1,'  or  L'Tsle 
rhis  was  in 
t  Chebucto 
bing-vessels 
the  fishing- 
nained  to  a 

i. 

the  peace- 
'  refreshed, 
:ir  perilous 
jodsman  to 
>r  doing  or 
isk  if  Rob 

He  really 
:  was  none 
riend.     In 

he  journey 
Is,  I  must 
uated  near 
they  were 
rom  New 
ay  and  up 
"  Le  Pas- 

n  Bretaigne, 
nour  of  their 
land.  It  is 
continent 


rff£  ARM  OF  GOLD. 


233 


sage  Frontenac,"  and  to  the  English  as  the  "Gut  of 
Canseau."  The  last  name  has  survived  the  other, 
and  the  stormy  strait  of  about  forty  miles  in  length 
and  an  average  of  a  mile  in  width  is  known  to-day  by 
that  designation. 

At  a  town  called  Caribacau  their  new  friend  was 
obliged  to  leave  them,  and  turn  back  toward  his 
home.  The  Woodranger  and  Rob  were  in  L'Isle 
Royale,'  whose  greatest  length  was  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles,  and  whose  greatest  width  was  eighty 
miles.  Its  population  consisted  of  from  three  to 
four  hundred  Indians,  some  descendants  of  the 
original  Bretons,  mostly  fishermen,  a  sprinkling  of 
irish  farmers,  French  Acadians,  some  Scots,  and  a 
few  English. 

The  Woodranger  und  Rob  had  thought  it  best  to 
follow  the  main  road  leading  east,  and  touching  first 
at  the  west  shore  of  Le  Bras  d'Or,  and  thence  along 
its  southern  shore  to  Sydney,  the  capital  of  the  island, 
situated  on  a  harbour  by  that  name.  Their  wish 
was  to  find  James  Bruce,  recommended  by  Briant, 
and  from  whom  they  hoped  to  get  a  canoe,  in  order 
to  save  time  and  distance  by  traversing  the  inland 
sea  just  mentioned,  and  which  was  fifty  miles  long. 

It  was  after  sunset  when  they  left  the   Gut  of 
Canseau,  so  th  .t  it  was  nearly  midnight  when  they 
caught  sight  of  the  silver  gleam  of  water  through  the 

'  Cape  Breton  became  a  county  of  Nova  Scotia  in  1820. 


'W 


234 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


tree-tops  ahead,  and  realised  that  at  last  they  had 
reached  that  oft-mentioned  Le  Bras  d'Or,  whose  poet- 
ical name  signifies  in  English  "The  Arm  of  Gold." 

"  I  ne'er  consider  it  a  wanton  pleasure  to  look  on 
yon  sheet  o'  water,  arter  the  goodish  perambulation 
we've  taken  to  find  it.  It  be  a  fair  pool,  which  the 
moonlight  gives  a  charm  not  —  Look  yon,  lad  !  If 
there  be  not  a  sight  more  to  our  co.isarn  than  this 
bit  o'  water,  I  ne'er'll  trust  these  ol'  eyes  ag'in." 

They  had  paused  near  the  edge  of  the  forest  over- 
hanging the  shore  of  the  lake,  and,  as  their  keen 
visions  swept  the  expanse  of  water,  both  saw  at  the 
same  moment  a  little  fleet  of  canoes  dart  out  from 
the  shadows  on  the  northern  shore  and  steer  toward 
the  south.  Four  of  these  light  barques  were  to  be 
counted,  and  each  held  as  many  as  six  occupants. 

The  sight  was  suflRcient  to  hold  them  close  watch- 
ers, while  the  little  fleet  continued  to  draw  nearer." 

The  moon  was  high  enough  in  the  sky  for  them  to 
see  the  party  qui',  ?  plainly  a  minute  after  the  Wood- 
ranger  had  finished  his  speech,  and  the  discovery  that 
they  made  was  explained  by  the  whispered  words  of 
Rob: 

"  Injuns  on  the  war-path  !  " 

"Aye,  Injuns  and  painted  French,"  replied  the 
forester.  "  Which  be  the  worst  heathen  it  be  not 
for  me  to  say.  Think  you  they  are  going  to  land, 
lad  ? " 


Wsaammim 


•'  W 


t  they  had 
A'hosc  poet- 
of  Gold." 
to  look  on 
ambulation 

which  the 
n,  lad  !     If 
1  than  this 
ig'in." 
orest  over- 
their  keen 
saw  at  the 
;  out  from 
;er  toward 
vere  to  be 
occupants, 
ose  watch- 
aw  nearer, 
jr  them  to 
:he  Wood- 
overy  that 

words  of 


;plied  the 
it  be  not 
{  to  land, 


r//E  ARM  OF  COLD. 


235 


"  Looks  like  it,  Woodranger.  Yes,  .see  !  they  are 
putting  in  toward  yonder  cove.  Can  this  be  the 
Main-A-Dieu  band  ? " 

«'  Not  the  Grand  Prd  herd,  though  it  do  look  so 
they've  come  a  goodish  way.  Mebbe  they're  to 
meet  others  here,  and  then  go  on  to  Main4-Dieu. 
If  sich  be  the  fact,  which  I'm  discreet  to  say  is  only 
an  ol'  man's  whim,  there  be  a  bit  o'  an  amazement 
for  us  to  hearken  into." 


,*  TSKsiSc;ri*''"~^Sf? 


?^-,'" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

AN  "  AMAZEMENT  "  FOR    FOUR. 

"  Let's  get  down  nearer  to  where  they're  going  to 
land,"  whispered  Rob,  "and  perhaps  we  can  get  a 
fair  look  at  them.  I  believe  I  can  see  captives  among 
them." 

They  acted  upon  Rob's  suggestion,  and  began  to 
advance  cautiously  toward  that  point  in  the  growth 
which  promised  to  become  the  landing-place  of  the 
canoe  party.  As  the  shore  of  Le  Bras  d'Or  was 
set  with  a  thick  fringe  of  water-bushes  and  vines, 
there  was  little  danger  of  the  scouts  being  detected 
by  the  allied  forces,  if  they  acted  with  their  cus- 
tomary cautic^.i.  A  medley  of  cries  and  outbreaks  of 
merriment  soon  reached  the  ears  of  the  Woodranger 
and  Rob,  which  caused  the  former  to  say,  in  a  low 
tone : 

"  I  jedge  they  be  in  good  spirits,  which  says  that 
they  have  been  successful  in  whatever  they  went 
arter.  They  be  putting  in  for  the  land.  I  opine 
there  be  a  French  settlement  hereabouts,  and  they  be 
bent  on  a  stop  here  to  loose  sich  jubilation?  as  have 

23b 


-s nmmmmmmmmmmmmm 


A.V  "AMAZEMENT''  FOK  FOUR. 


^17 


y^'re  going  to 
e  can  get  a 
Jtives  among 

nd  began  to 
the  growth 
place  of  the 
as  d'Or  was 
s  and  vines, 
ing  detected 
li  their  cus- 
outbreaks  of 
Wood  ranger 
say,  in  a  low 

ch  says  that 
r  they  went 
id.  I  opine 
,  and  they  be 
;ionp  as  have 


risen  from  their  wanton  destruction  o'   human  life 
and  property." 

So  well  did  the  speaker  and  his  companion  manage 
their  stealthy  approach  that,  when  the  foremost  canoe 
was  running  into  the  shallow  water  of  the  sandy 
beach,  they  were  already  lying  in  the  matted  bushes 
less  than  four  rods  away.  Without  dreaming  of  the 
watchers,  so  near  by  that  they  saw  every  move  made 
by  them,  the  leaders  of  the  war-party  sprang  out  into 
the  water,  and  pulled  their  boat  after  tnem,  until  it 
rested  on  the  sand.  Though  three  of  this  division 
of  the  band  wore  the  feathered  plumes  of  the  Mic- 
macs,  both  the  Woodranger  and  Rob  knew  they 
were  white  men  in  the  disguise  of  Indians. 

The  second  canoe  was  filled  with  Indians,  which 
fact,  as  well  as  the  bloody  nature  of  their  enterprise, 
was  attested  to  by  a  couple  of  scalp-locks  hanging 
from  the  girdles  of  two  of  them.  This  sight  set  the 
warm  blood  of  Rob  Rogers  coursing  swiftly  through 
his  veins,  and  he  seized  on  the  arm  of  his  companion 
with  a  grasp  which  betrayed  his  deep  emotion.  In 
reply,  the  Woodranger  laid  his  hand  on  that  of  his 
young  and  more  fiery  companion,  whispering,  as  he 
pointed  with  his  other  hand  toward  the  third  canoe : 

"  If  we  be  not  in  season  to  succour  some,  we  be  in 
time  to  join  in  the  amazement  o'  others." 

Rob  now  saw  two  captives  in  this  boat,  whose 
crew  was  about  equally  divided  between  French  and 


-■-  ^-Z^a»S-MS'^TS^t'i^i:.-lint^- 


238 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Indians.  Behind  this  war-canoe  came  the  fourth  and 
last  one,  carrying  four  Micmacs.  He  counted  twenty 
in  the  party  besides  the  two  captives.  One  of  these 
was  a  boy  of  about  twelve  years,  but  the  other  was  not 
seen  plain  enough  to  tell  if  he  were  older  or  younger. 

The  landing  of  the  entire  party,  which  was  quickly 
effected,  was  watched  with  keen  interest  by  the 
Woodr^.nger  and  Rob.  A  short  consultation  then 
followed,  after  which  the  officer  in  charge  of  the 
allied  forces  led  the  way  up  from  the  water's  edge, 
followed  by  all  but  two  of  his  squad,  who  remained 
on  guard  over  the  captives  and  the  canoes.  The 
path  pursued  by  the  war-party  ran  within  four  yards 
of  the  concealed  scouts,  so  that  they  not  only  wit- 
nesstu  every  movement  plainly,  but  overheard  all  that 
was  said.  From  the  fragments  of  conversation  car- 
ried on  they  understood  that  the  party  had  just 
returned  from  a  raid  on  an  English  settlement  in  the 
North  District,  which  had  not  been  as  successful  as 
they  had  anticipated.  They  were  now  expecting 
another  party  to  join  them  in  an  expedition  up  Le 
Bras  d'Or,  which  the  Woodranger  and  Rob  quickly 
concluded  to  mean  against  Main-ci-Dieu. 

With  what  interest  they  watched  the  departure  of 
the  enemy  on  a  five  minutes'  visit  to  the  settlement 
at  the  upper  edge  of  the  forest  may  be  imagined. 
The  moment  they  wtre  beyond  hearing,  though  not 
yet  out  of  sight,  the  Woodranger  said  : 


c 


mm-:0m 


the  fourth  and 
counted  twenty 
One  of  these 
le  other  was  not 
der  or  younger, 
ich  was  quickly 
nterest  by  the 
nsultation  then 

charge  of  the 
e  water's  edge, 
,  who  remained 
2  canoes.  The 
ithin  four  yards 
:y  not  only  wit- 
k^erheard  all  that 
onversation  car- 
party  had  just 
ettlement  in  the 
as  successful  as 

now  expecting 
cpedition  up  Le 
nd  Rob  quickly 
)ieu. 

the  departure  of 
)  the  settlement 
ly  be  imagined, 
ing,  though  not 
i: 


AN  "AMAZEMENT"  FOR  FOUR. 


239 


"  What  do  you  think  o'  that,  lad  ?  Be  there  an 
amazement  for  us  }  " 

The  couple  left  on  guard  at  the  water's  edge,  both 
of  whom  were  evidently  French,  were  marching 
slowly  back  and  forth  with  their  weapons  ready  for 
instant  use. 

"  Isn't  there  some  way  we  can  capture  those  fel- 
lows .?  "  asked  Rob,  replying  in  a  whisper.  "  One  of 
those  canoes  is  just  what  we  need  to  get  across  the 
lake  in." 

"That  be  a  fact,  lad.  But  there  be  a  personal 
p'int  in  the  matter.  It'd  be  a  wanton  waste  o"  cau- 
tion for  us  to  shoot  the  varmints.  Not  that  I  'low 
they're  any  too  good  for  a  lead  physic.  'Em  as  con- 
sorts with  tKe  painted  heathens,  who  exult  in  the 
slaying  o'  innercent  lives,  desarve  the  treatment 
belonging  to  sich.  Nay,  lad,  the  use  o'  the  gun 
be  'yon '  consideration,  'cept  it  be  the  last  knot  in 
the  string.  Still,  I'm  sot  on  having  one  0'  'em 
canoes." 

"  I  am  with  you,  Woodranger.  Nothing  would  suit 
me  better  than  to  make  off  with  one  of  them,  and 
leave  the  others  so  they  couldn't  be  used  to  follow 
us." 

"  I  swan,  lad,  that  be  my  own  mind,  let  it  be  dis- 
cretionary or  not.  I  have  a  hankering  that  way,  I 
do.  If  I  sh'd  crawl  forward,  so  as  to  get  behind 
them,  you  might  get  their  'tention  fixed  this  way. 


.#■ 


'.^isltri  }m  Aoije^tUmcfi^.  I  ^  T 


240 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Mebbe  it  could  be  done,  lad.     I  opfne  it  could  with 
proper  discretion." 

Rob  agreed  with  his  companion,  and,  knowing  the 
:  hort  time  in  which  they  had  to  act,  the  idea  was 
accepted  without  hesitation.  The  men  on  the  beach, 
Hke  a  couple  of  sentinels,  were  slowly  marching  back 
and  forth,  but  at  no  time  did  both  of  them  turn  the 
same  way,  so  that  nothing  within  their  range  of  vis- 
ion could  escape  their  watchfulness.  The  main  body 
had  now  disappeared  in  the  growth  above,  and  the 
Woodranger,  without  longer  delay,  began  to  advance 
across  the  path  they  had  so  recently  followed,  leav- 
ing Rob  to  watch  and  wait  for  the  proper  time  to  act 

himself. 

In  one  respect  the  Woodranger  was  favoured,  as 
the  border  of  thick  bushes  continued  for  a  long  dis- 
tance along  the  shore  of  the  lake.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  beach  was  fifty  feet  or  more  in  width,  and 
in  the  clear  moonlight  it  seemed  impossible  for  him 
to  get  very  near  the  wary  couple  without  being  dis- 
covered by  them. 

Minute  after  minute  passed,  and  the  only  sound 
that  broke  the  silence  of  the  midnight  hour  was  the 
ceaseless  lap^  ing  of  the  water.  Rob  was  beginning 
to  look  for  the  return  of  the  war-party,  while  he 
hstened  in  vain  for  the  Woodranger's  signal.  It  did 
not  need  this  to  tell  him  that  his  friend  was  moving 
with  all  the  speed   consistent  with  safety,  but  he 


>'*^T?KB^."^'-- 


t  could  with 

knowing  the 
he  idea  was 
n  the  beach, 
irching  back 
em  turn  the 
range  of  vis- 
e  main  body 
3ve,  and  the 
n  to  advance 
llowed,  leav- 
r  time  to  act 

favoured,  as 
ir  a  long  dis- 
)n  the  other 
in  width,  and 
sible  for  him 
ut  being  dis- 

e  only  sound 
hour  was  the 
?as  beginning 
rty,  while  he 
gnal.  It  did 
1  was  moving 
ifety,  but  he 


i 


i 


i 


AN  ''AMAZEMENT"  FOR  FOUR. 


241 


began  to  fear  there  would  not  be  time  to  carry  out 
their  plan.  The  unsuspecting  sentinels  showed  that 
th»^y  were  beginning  to  think  it  time  for  their  com- 
panions to  rejoin  them,  as  a  glance  in  that  direction 
now  and  then  showed.  The  moon  shone  clear  from 
a  cloudless  sky,  so  that  it  was  as  light  as  day  along 
the  beach.  It  was  only  the  boldest  stratagem  that 
could  enable  them  to  succeed. 

In  the  midst  of  these  thoughts  the  Woodranger's 
signal  aroused  Rob  from  his  tiresome  inactivity.  In 
a  moment  he  was  ready  to  carry  out  his  part  of  the 
work,  and  his  first  move  was  to  make  a  slight  noise 
by  shaking  the  bushes  just  ahead  of  him.  As  slight 
as  the  movement  was,  the  sentinels  instantly  turned 
sharply  in  that  direction,  and  a  low  exclamation  of 
warning  from  one  reached  Rob's  ears.  At  ^hat 
moment  he  discovered  a  figure  leaving  the  gnjwth 
just  beyond  the  two  men.     It  was  the  Woodranger. 

Rob  followed  up  his  first  alarm  by  a  low  groan, 
apparently  made  by  some  one  in  great  distress. 
Scarcely  had  he  given  this  utterance  before  the  fire- 
arms of  the  two  seniries  were  brought  to  their 
shoulders,  and  the  long  wertponu  were  level  in  that 
direction,  while  the  foremo.^t  of  the  alaimed  men 
cried  01     in  a  sharp  voice  r 

"  Dart    o  move  at  the  peril  of  your  life  !  " 

This  w  uttered  in  French,  which  Rob  under- 
stood, and  he   replied  with  another  groan,  silently 


-*"°"-f;-^--' .  ■ 


tmm 


242 


rj/£    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


retreating  the  next  moment.  Thus  the  firea"ms  of 
his  enemies  were  pointed  at  the  thicket  a  little  ahead 
of  him.  While  this  was  taking  place  the  Wood- 
ranger  began  to  swiftly  approach  the  couple  whose 
attention  was  fixed  in  front.  But  the  forester  was 
three  or  four  rods  distant  from  the  nearest  watch- 
man, and  Rob  knew  that,  unless  he  held  the  atten- 
tion of  him  and  his  companion  in  that  direction,  the 
chance  of  success  without  a  hand-to-hand  combat 
would  be  lost.  But  the  men,  through  their  fear  and 
lack  of  caution,  hastened  the  crisis,  while  they  threw 
away  their  chance  of  escape. 

"  Advance  into  sight !  "  called  out  the  spokesman, 
"or  we  will  fire  on  you  where  you  are." 

Rob  gave  another  groan,  and  again  retreated  a  few 
feet.  Without  further  warning,  the  two  men  fired 
simultaneously  at  the  mysterious  creature  in  the 
thicket.  Ordinary  prudence  should  have  suggested 
to  them  that  one  shot  would  have  been  better,  and 
one  would  thus  have  been  prepared  to  meet  whatever 
might  follow.  This  mistake  they  learned  when  it 
was  too  late  to  remedy  it. 

The  Woodranger  had  already  passed  over  half  the 
distance  to  him  whom  he  had  selected  for  his  first 
attack,  and  the  reports  of  the  firearms  had  not  died 
away  before  his  strong  grasp  was  upon  the  man's 
throat  with  a  force  that  effectually  stopped  his  cry 
of  alarm. 


AN  ^'AMAZEMENT''  FOR  FOUR. 


243 


firea"ms  of 
little  ahead 
the  Wood- 
uple  whose 
jrester  was 
rest  watch- 
the  atten- 
rection,  the 
nd  combat 
ir  fear  and 
they  threw 

ipokesman, 

;ated  a  few 
men  fired 
ire  in  the 
suggested 
better,  and 
!t  whatever 
id  when  it 

er  half  the 
Dr  his  first 
d  not  died 
the  man's 
led  his  cry 


Meanwhile,  Rob  had  not  been  inactive.  The 
weapons  of  the  French  soldiers  had  been  single- 
barrelled  guns,  and  the  moment  they  had  discharged 
the  pieces  he  sprang  from  his  covert,  and,  clubbing 
his  own  stout  firearm,  ran  toward  the  other  sentry. 
This  man,  frightened  by  his  sudden  appearance,  in- 
stead of  offering  resistance,  turned  and  flew  toward 
the  forest  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

Knowing  that  shots  would  bring  the  absent  squad 
back  to  the  place,  Rob  ran  to  the  assistance  of  the 
Woodranger.  But  all  that  was  required  of  him  was 
to  find  a  piece  of  cord,  which  he  did  in  one  of  the 
canoes.  With  this  the  soldier  was  quickly  bound 
hand  and  foot.  This  had  been  barely  accomplished 
before  loud  cries  from  the  distance  told  that  the 
others  of  the  war-party  had  been  aroused,  and  were 
coming  to  the  scene. 

"  The  heathens  be  coming  !  "  exclaimed  the  Wood- 
ranger.  "  It  be  discreet  for  us  to  get  away  from  here 
as  soon  as  may  be.  But  it  be  discreeter  for  us  to 
rifHe  their  canoes." 

Whipping  out  the  long  hunting-knife  he  carried,  the 
forester  ran  to  the  nearest  canoe,  and  a  moment  later 
it  was  placed  beyond  future  usefulness. 

"This  be  wanton  work,"  soliloquised  the  destroyer, 
'but  who  scrimmages  with  heathens  can  ne'er  be 
o'erparticular  in  his  methods.  If  there  be  a  saving 
blame  it  need  stand  for  the  poor  captives." 


1>:S»^ 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEAREK. 

With  less  regard  for  whn*  he  was  doing,  Rob 
scuttled  the  second  canoe,  and  in  less  time  than  it 
has  taken  to  describe  it  only  one  of  the  four  canoes 
remained  in  a  condition  fit  for  use.  This  one  con- 
tained the  two  captives,  who  had  looked  upon  the 
preceding  scene  with  considerable  terror,  unable  to 
understand  whether  it  was  to  work  them  good  or  ill. 
The  Woodranger  and  Rob  now  pushed  this  out  into 
the  water,  and  sprang  in  as  the  war-party  appeared 
at  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

Seizing  the  paddles,  the  fugitives  sent  the  light 
craft  flying  out  over  the  water,  as  renewed  yells  from 
the  enemy  told  that  they  had  been  discovered,  and 
their  intentions  understood.  If  there  were  any  doubts 
about  this  last,  they  were  quickly  undeceived  by  the 
volley  which  the  next  moment  was  sent  after  them. 
But  the  canoe  was  in  rapid  motion,  and  the  marks- 
men fired  with  such  haste  that  not  a  bullet  took 
effect.  It  is  true  some  of  them  whistled  uncomfort- 
ably near,  but  they  did  not  even  receive  a  scratch, 
and,  confident  now  of  escape,  they  continued  to  ply 
the  paddles  with  the  efficacy  which  comes  from  long 
training. 

The  soldiers  rushed  headlong  to  the  shore,  to  find 
that  they  had  been  baffled  in  their  pursuit.  They 
expressed  their  rage  in  a  furious  yell,  which  was  just 
as  effective  as  the  random  shots  they  sent  after  the 
fugitives.    Glancing  back,  our  friends  saw  them  danc- 


AN  ''AMAZEMENT''  FOR  FOUR. 


245 


doiiig,  Rob 
me  than  it 
■our  canoes 
is  one  con- 
1  upon  the 
unable  to 
^ood  or  ill. 
is  out  into 
y  appeared 

t  the  light 
yells  from 
)vered,  and 
any  doubts 
V'ed  by  the 
iter  them. 
:he  marks- 
)ullet  took 
ancomfort- 
a  scratch, 
ied  to  ply 
from  long 

re,  to  find 
jit.  They 
\i  was  just 
after  the 
hem  danc- 


ing madly  on  the  beach,  and  when  their  forms  began 
to  grow  indistinct,  they  began  to  paddle  with  more 
deliberation,  until  finally  the  Woodranger  said  : 

"  I  opine  the  creetur's'll  ne'er  take  the  trouble  to 
follow,  seeing  there  be  slight  chance  for  'em  to  do  it 
without  wetting  their  precious  skins,  and  that'd  take 
the  paint  off.  I've  heerd  painted  folks  be  afeerd  o' 
water.     But  who  have  we  with  us  .'  " 

It  soon  proved  that  the  captives,  who  had  remained 
^lilent  through  the  exciting  scenes  just  passed,  were 
both  young  boys,  the  oldest  not  over  twelve,  and  the 
other  three  or  four  years  younger.  Both  showed 
signs  of  great  grief,  and  now  they  looked  upon  their 
rescuers  with  tears  in  their  eyes. 

"  Please,  sir,"  said  the  oldest,  "  I  don't  know  who 
you  are,  but  I  beg  of  you  not  to  hurt  brother  or  me." 

"  Mebbe  we  be  a  bit  rugged  in  our  ways,  but  we 
be  fri'nds,"  declared  the  Woodranger.  "  If  the  red 
and  painted  inemy  be  looking  for  means  to  get  o'er 
this  goodish  pool  o'  water,  there  be  leetle  to  worry 
you.  It  be  no  leetle  amazement  that  you've  seen, 
jedging  by  'em  strings,  but  I'll  soon  set  you  free,  as 
youth  should  be." 

The  boys  were  both  bound  hand  and  foot  with 
ligatures  of  deer-thongs,  which  the  Woodranger 
quickly  cut  away  with  his  knife,  while  the  captives 
showed  their  delight  by  expressions  of  thankfulness. 
It  was  soon  learned  that  their  names  were  Charles 


246 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


is  % 


and  James  Hanaford.  The  first  told  the  story  of 
their  captivity,  which  was  that  so  often  repeated  on 
the  frontier.  The  allied  forces  of  French  and  Indi- 
ans had  suddenly  appeared  at  a  small  settlement  of 
English  and  Irish  settlers  to  the  north  of  Le  Bras 
d'Or,  and  the  inhabitants  were  cither  put  to  death  or 
driven  from  their  homes.  The  boys  did  not  think 
many  had  been  killed,  as  an  alarm  had  preceded  the 
attack  of  the  enemies,  and  the  people  had  startetl  to 
flee.  This  fact  seemed  borne  out  by  the  fact  that 
the  Woodranger  and  Rob  had  seen  such  a  small 
number  of  scalps.  The  parents  of  the  boys  had 
been  among  the  fugitives,  and  in  the  flight  Charles 
and  James  had  become  separated  from  them,  and 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  their  captors.  The  hor- 
rors of  that  trip  across  Le  Bras  d'Or,  expecting  to 
meet  a  most  terrible  death,  had  worked  upon  them 
so  that  even  now  it  was  impossible  for  them  to 
speak  of  it  without  bursting  into  tears.  But  the 
Woodranger  spoke  kindly  to  them,  and  they  soon 
became  calmer. 

"  Your  tale  goes  to  show,"  he  said,  finally,  "  that 
the  uprising  o'  these  varmints  is  general.  But  you 
are  safe  for  the  time,  lads,  and  let  us  trust  that  your 
parents  are  having  no  greater  amazement  than  wor- 
rying o'er  you.  We'll  get  you  home  in  proper  shape 
in  proper  time.  And  while  we  push  ahead  we'll  set 
the  stick  with  the  current  o'  our  best  jedgment." 


IK 


he  story  of 
repeated  on 
:h  and  Indi- 
;ttlenient  of 
of  Le   Bras 

to  death  or 
d  not  think 
)receded  the 
id  startetl  to 
tie  fact  that 
uch  a  small 
2  boys  had 
ght  Charles 
I  them,  and 
>.  The  hor- 
gxpecting  to 

upon  them 
or  them  to 
s.  But  the 
1  they  soon 

inally,  "that 
il.  But  you 
ist  that  your 
nt  than  wor- 
proper  shape 
ead  we'll  set 
igment." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE     WARRIOR     PINE. 


"  Now's  me,  lad,  one  can  ne'er  run  away  from  his 
inemy  by  running  away  with  his  own  strength.  It 
be  ag'in  natur'  to  ply  the  paddle  overlong,  and  it  has 
been  a  goodish  bit  o'  a  pull  since  we  left  'em  red  and 
painted  heathens  a-^staring  at  our  heels,"  and  the  for- 
ester laughed  in  his  silent  way,  his  bronzed  counte- 
nanc"  wreathed  in  smiles,  though  his  lips  uttered  no 
sound. 

The  rising  sun  was  shooting  long,  golden  arrows 
of  light  across  Le  Bras  d*Or,  as  the  Woodranger 
gave  expression  to  the  above  speech,  and  he  and 
Rob  rested  on  their  paddles,  after  having  placed  sev- 
eral miles  of  water  between  them  and  their  outwitted 
enemies.  They  had  followed  quite  closely  to  the 
southern  shore  of  the  inland  sea,  and  now  their 
canoe  was  soon  carried  by  the  tide  near  enough  for 
them  to  obtain  a  good  view  of  the  forest,  which 
extended  farther  than  they  could  see.  Flooded  by 
the  clear,  chaste  light  of  early  morning,  the  primeval 
woods  looked  uncommonly  beautiful.     The  "  virgin 

*47 


rii 


248 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


forest "  picturetl  by  the  romancer  is  not  found  as 
often  as  it  is  described,  the  truth  being  that  as  a  rule 
the  original  forest,  with  its  mass  of  dying  trees  and 
decaying  vegetables,  its  network  of  reeking  vines 
and  bowed  saplings,  was  anything  but  a  delight  to 
him  who  tried  to  penetrate  its  fastness.  Hut  the 
tall,  straight  trunks  of  the  pines  forming  this  tract 
of  growth  stood  far  apart  like  rustic  columns  holding 
aluft  a  leafy  canopy  of  deathless  green.  This  beauty 
was  enhanced  by  the  park-like  regularity  of  these 
ancient  monarchs  of  the  forest,  that  had  stifled  all 
undergrowth,  and  now  formed  almost  perfect  rows 
reaching  farther  >n  one  could  see.  Rob,  who  had 
spent  most  of  his  youthful  years  in  roaming  the 
wildwoods,  was  quick  to  notice  this,  and  he  expressed 
his  pleasure  at  the  sight  to  his  companion,  than 
whom  no  one  was  better  fitted  to  appreciate  it. 

"Alack,  lad,  so  you  minded  the  happy  company, 
did  you }  I  was  thinking  o'  'em  as  so  many  people, 
though  not  o'  my  own  race.  In  my  boyhood  I  re- 
member o'  being  tol'  o'  a  race  o'  hardy  people  living 
in  a  cold  country,  and  whose  ancestors  were  great 
warriors  and  seamen.  They  were  tall,  stalwart  men, 
who  o'ermastered  whomever  they  met,  and  they  went 
fur  from  home,  as  fur  as  ol'  New  England,  which 
they  called  Vineland.  On  'count  o'  their  daring  and 
warlike  natur's  they  were  called  vikings.  I  like  to 
think  o'  the  pine  as  the  viking  o'  the  forest.     The 


THE    WARRIOR  PINE. 


249 


lot  found  as 
liat  as  a  rule 
ng  trees  and 
eeking  vines 
a  delight  to 
IS.  But  the 
iig  this  tract 
imns  holding 
This  beauty 
rity  of  these 
ad  stifled  all 
perfect  rows 
lob,  who  had 
roaming  the 
he  expressed 
panion,  than 
preciate  it. 
ipy  company, 
many  people, 
)oyhood  I  re- 
people  living 
>  were  great 
stalwart  men, 
nd  they  went 
gland,  which 
ir  daring  and 
s.  I  like  to 
forest.     The 


pine  may  be  a  bit  o'rrbearing,  and  ne'er  s.    ial  to  the 
other  clans  o'  the  forest,  but  so  was  the  viking. 

"  The  red,  who  lived  nearer  to  natur'  than  the 
white  man,  held  a  very  pretty  conceit,  which  went  on 
to  say  that  the  pines  were  the  descendants  o'  un 
Indian  warrior.  A  long  time  ago,  when  the  morning 
light  had  more  o'  the  rose,  and  the  sunset  lasted  for 
hours,  there  dwelt  a  tribe  of  mighty  reds  afar  in  the 
northland.  In  'em  days  the  hunting-grounds  were 
overrun  with  game,  and  no  hunter  e'er  came  back 
from  the  trail  with  nothing  to  show  for  his  day's 
perambulation.  How  the  eye  o'  the  later-da)  red 
kindles  as  he  pictures  that  golden  era,  afcjre  a  blight 
crept  o'er  the  chase  and  a  rival  race  with  pale  skin 
and  wcepons  0'  war  akin  to  the  fire  o'  the  sky 
stepped  in  to  break  the  charm. 

"  Among  these  red  men  was  a  warrior  taller  than 
any  o'  his  kin,  and  as  proud  as  he  was  tall.  What 
nettled  his  comrades  most  was  the  fact  that  he  made- 
no  boast  he  could  not  keep,  for  it  is  not  so  much 
what  one  says  as  what  he  does  that  makes  a  bitter- 
ness o'  heart.  There  was  no  chase  in  which  he  did 
not  lead,  and  in  their  raids  ag'inst  their  inemies  he 
always  fetched  home  the  most  scalp-locks. 

"  The  others  stood  this  like  true  reds  till  he  come 
to  tech  their  hearts  by  trying  to  win  fiom  them  the 
fairest  maid  in  the  lodgment.  She  was  a  princess, 
or   something   o'    the   kind,    and   at    first    favoured 


25© 


77/A    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


another  brave.  Then  she  claimed  that  the  big 
warrior  had  bewitched  her,  and  thai  she  feared  him 
more  than  she  loved  him.  In  this  strait  the  other 
lovers  went  to  an  ol'  dealer  in  Indian  wisdom.  He 
tried  his  charms  on  the  big  warrior,  but  he  failed  in 
'em  all.  His  excuse  was  that  the  forests  loved  and 
protected  so  great  a  hunter,  and  that  he  could  do 
nothing  with  the  tall  warrior  'less  he  could  be  got 
into  open  kentry.  In  'cm  days  there  was  leetle  open 
kentry,  and  as  the  tall  trailer  was  ne'er  known  to  find 
'em  places  where  danger  lurked  to  him,  it  looked  so 
the  shorter  fellers  had  a  big  hunk  to  bite  off. 

"  By'm  bye  a  big  running  match  was  planned,  as  I 
s'pect,  to  outwit  the  tall  warrior.  It  was  'ranged  so 
the  running  course  lay  with  the  eends  on  opposite 
sides  o'  an  opening,  and  the  runners  would  have  to 
cross  the  clearing  or  take  a  Icager  trail  through  the 
woods. 

"  If  the  tall  chap  see  the  trap  laid  for  him,  he 
didn't  act  so,  for  he  was  detarmined  to  win  the  race, 
and  he  run,  as  ihe  rest  did,  the  short  way.  This 
give  the  ol'  root  and  harb  diviner  a  chance  to  try  his 
trick  on  the  brave,  and  he  bawled  out  that  he  be 
turned  into  a  bush.  But  the  warrior  showed  that  he 
was  not  the  sort  o'  a  red  to  be  shifted  into  bush- 
wood,  and  where  he  stopped  in  the  midst  o'  his  run 
riz  a  tree  the  like  o'  which  the  red  men  had  ne'er 
seen.     It  was  a  pine  of  mighty  body,  straight  as  a 


1,  he 

race, 

This 

[y  his 

[e  be 

It  he 

)ush- 

run 

je'er 

las  a 


TffE    WAKRIOR  PINR. 


25 


gun-barrel,  with  a  crest  that  held  concourse  with  the 
clouds.  The  tall  warrior  had  been  cheated  of  his 
bride,  but  what  he  lost  o'  the  fleeting  visions  0'  a 
life  that  is  like  a  leaf  falling  in  the  forest  he  gained 
in  an  age  that  bordered  upon  immortality.  Many 
generations  o'  the  dusky  hunters  sped  their  'arthly 
race,  while  the  pine  stood  as  a  reminder  o'  him  who 
had  led  their  ancestors  in  the  chase. 

"  And  the  pine  became  a  favoured  resort  for  many 
people.  Many  a  red  lover,  'tis  said,  plighted  his  vows 
under  its  protecting  arms.  Once  a  maid,  fleeing  from 
a  lover  whom  she  did  not  wish  to  wed,  stood  by  the 
pine  as  she  stopped  to  rest  in  her  flight.  Then, 
seeing  her  wooer  coming,  with  her  father  guiding 
him  in  the  pursuit,  she  cried  out  in  despair,  begging 
of  the  tree  to  help  her  in  her  sore  strait.  She  had 
barely  spoken  her  words,  when  she  was  frightened  to 
hear  a  voice  beside  her  say  : 

"  '  Be  my  wife,  sweet  maid,  and  you'll  have  no  more 
to  fear.' 

"  The  voice  seemed  to  come  from  the  pine,  but, 
unable  to  understand,  she  knew  not  what  to  say  or  do. 
Then  the  same  soothing  tone  continued  : 

"  'It  is  I,  the  pine,  speaking,  fair  maid.  All  these 
years  have  I  stood  here  waiting  for  some  one  to 
speak  to  me  that  the  spell  over  me  might  be  broken. 
I'm  blest  that  it  is  you  who  have  spoken  at  last.  Be 
mine  and  ours  will  be  the  happiest  life  on  'arth.' 


1^'^ 


JJ 


i^js-js;;. 


r 


252 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  With  her  ill-favoured  lover  and  father  now  clus 
to  her,  the  maid  had  leetle  time  to  consider  the  un- 
expected proposition,  and,  knowing  that  no  fate  could 
be  worse  than  to  marry  the  grizzled  warrior  whom 
her  parent  favoured,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  accept 
the  offer  0'  the  tree.  Then  the  pine  seemed  to  clasp 
her  in  his  arms,  and  her  pursuers  s'arched  in  vain 
for  her.  As  time  passed  on  without  giving  him  any 
sort  o'  an  inkling  o'  her  end,  her  father  mourned  her 
as  dead,  and  the  gray -headed  chief  had  to  seek  another 
bride. 

"Those  who  came  a^ter  them  see  other  pines 
growing  up  around  the  solitary  monarch,  until  a 
forest  o'  the  nobk  trees  kivered  hillside  and  valley. 
Hunters  crossing  the  sacred  ground  jess  at  sunset 
claimed  to  see  a  beautiful  maid  in  company  with  a 
tall,  handsome  warrior  under  the  tree,  but  that  both 
vanished  into  the  pine  as  they  drew  nearer.  The 
reds  to  this  day  hold  to  the  pretty  conceit  that  the 
pines  are  descended  from  this  couple  o'  human 
beings. 

•'  Now's  me,  durst  heed  how  near  we  are  creeping 
in  toward  the  shore,  as  if  these  very  pines  were 
drawing  us  like  a  magnet.  It  may  be  well  for  us  to 
stand  away  a  bit  from  the  land,  ne'er  forgetting  that 
we  are  in  the  inemy's  country.  Mebbe  my  tale  has 
been  overlong  to  these  lads  with  heavy  hearts,  but 
no  sorrow  is  lightened  by  repining  o'er  it.     So  cheer 


THE    WARRIOR   PINE. 


:r  nv)W  cius 
der  the  un- 
0  fate  could 
Trior  whom 
e  to  accept 
ned  to  clasp 
hed  in  vain 
ng  him  any 
nourned  her 
se'ik  another 

other  pines 
rch,  until  a 
;  and  valley, 
ss  at  sunset 
pany  with  a 
ut  that  both 
earer.  The 
:eit  that  the 
o'    human 

[are  creeping 

pines  were 

rell  for  us  to 

•getting  that 

my  tale  has 

hearts,  but 

So  cheer 


up.  lads,  the  day  be  fair,  the  water  clear,  and  the 
birch  light.  We  shall  make  the  ol'  French  road  in 
good  time,  and  onc't  there,  I  see  no  other  more 
pr  "per  trail  for  us  to  follow  than  for  Rob  and  I  to 
turn  back  to  back.  One  o'  us  will  see  that  you 
reach  a  haven  o'  safety,  where  you  can  get  an  ink- 
ling o'  your  kin,  while  the  other  ;^^>"cs  on  to  Main-a- 
Dieu.     How  floats  the  stick  with  you,  Rob  .' " 

"  I  agree  to  any  plan  you  have  to  offer,  Wood- 
ranger.  We  should  not  do  our  duty  if  we  failed 
now  to  warn  the  poor  settlers  of  Main4-Dieu.  We 
have  come  too  far  to  abandon  them  now." 

"In  all  consistency  your  words  be  true.  My 
heart  would  cry  out  ag'in  leaving  the  children  here 
in  their  sore  strait,  and  one  can  carry  the  news  to 
Maina-Dieu.     Which  shall  it  be  1 " 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  me,  Woodranger.  I 
will  do  either." 

"  Spoken  jess  like  you,  lad.  Mebbe,  as  I  have  a 
leetle  —  mind  you  I  say  but  a  leetle  —  better  ink- 
ling o'  the  kentry,  that  I  had  better  perambulate  off 
with  the  children.  I  will  set  the  canoe  toward  Little 
Bras  d'Or,  as  soon  as  we  have  reached  the  French 
road  running  from  the  shore  o'  this  body  o'  water 
straight  as  a  bee-line  to  Fort  St.  Louisburg,  where, 
I  understand,  this  fleet  o'  French  warships  now 
crossing  the  sea  will  first  stop. 

"You'll  ne'er  need  the  birch  arter  striking  the 


^. 


itilMMMNiriAli 


254 


THE    YOUNG   CUPBEARER. 


kentry  at  the  head  0'  this  lake,  bu'c  I  can  best  make 
my  perambulation  by  water  to  the  north  settlements. 
You'd  chide  me  for  saying  that  the  minnit  your  foot 
teches  land  you're  surrounded  by  the  inemy,  that 
you  be  in  the  heart  o'  the  inemy' s  kentry,  for  you've 
I'amed  your  lesson  in  natur's  book,  and  I  know 
you're  to  be  counted  on.  One  o'  us  must  get  to 
Main-4-Dieu." 

"I  will  do  it,  Woodranger,  if  it  costs  me  my  life." 

"  I  know  it,  lad,  I  do.  But,  alack  !  now's  me,  as  if 
our  duty  eended  there,  when  there's  to  be  another 
knot  tied  in  our  string  o'  amazements.  Lad,  I  have 
another  word  to  add." 

"I  am  listening.  Wool,  inger.  Remember  there 
is  nothing  you  can  ask  that  I  will  not  and  cannot 
do." 

To  another,  unacquainted  with  this  couple,  the 
last  statement  ti  Rob  Rogers  might  have  seemed 
like  boasting.  But  his  companion  knew  it  simply 
expressed  tne  determination  of  a  heart  that  never 
failed,  of  a  courage  of  conviction  and  a  fertility  of 
resource  to  s"rmount  any  obstacle  that  might  ap- 
pear. Prompt  to  think  and  to  act  in  all  that  he 
undertook,  Robert  Rogers  was  never  daunted  at  any 
odds  against  him,  and  seldom,  if  ever,  allowed  defeat 
to  come  to  him. 

"  I  knew  it,  lad,"  the  Woodranger  continued,  in 
his  simple,  straightforward  way.     "I  need  not  wind 


>est  make 
tlements. 
your  foot 
;my,  that 
ior  you've 
I  know 
ist  get  to 

;  my  life." 
s  me,  as  if 
)e  another 
-ad,  I  have 

nber  there 
nd  cannot 

ouple,   the 

ve  seemed 

it   simply 

hat   never 

fertility  of 

might  ap- 

.11  that  he 

ited  at  any 

wed  defeat 

itinued,  in 
not  wind 


THE    WARRIOR   PINE. 


255 


back  on  the  trail  to  remind  you  o'  the  situation  in 
New  England,  and  the  duty  that  belongs  to  us  to 
do.  The  innercent  people  must  be  'roused  to  the 
danger  o'  the  sleep  that  lays  on  the  white  settle- 
ments. This  must  be  done  afore  the  war-whoop  o' 
the  painted  heathen  'wakes  the  homes  o'  New  Eng- 
land. But  how  I  do  double  on  the  trail  when  the 
p'int  be  straight  ahead.  The  skein  I  wish  to  unravel 
be  this :  When  you've  spread  the  news  to  Main-^- 
Dicu,  do  not  begin  to  look  round  for  me,  but  get 
back  to  New  England  as  soon  as  may  be.  Mebbe 
Captain  Vaughan  would  be  as  good  a  person  as 
you  could  see  first ;  but  see  who  you  can  as  soon 
as  may  be.  I  claim  no  great  knack  at  sich  an 
amazement,  but  that  seems  to  me  t!.e  main  p'int  to 
reach." 

"You  will  do  the  same,  Woodranger .' " 
"  Sartin,  lad,  sartin,  alwus  reckoning  that  the  leaf 
does  not  fall  afore  the  frost  strikes  it." 

The  Woodranger  had  already  resumed  paddling, 
and  Rob  following  his  example,  the  canoe  moved 
over  the  water  at  a  rapid  rate.  Nothing  further  was 
said  by  them  in  regard  to  their  future  plans,  but  so 
well  did  they  understand  each  other  that  there  was 
scarcely  any  need  of  this.  In  the  many  years  that 
they  had  passed  together  as  scouts  and  huntevs 
they  were  often  obliged  to  separate,  and  it  might  be 
months  before  they  would  meet  again.    One  singular 


mfiim.  witMaiKai 


256 


r//£    YOUNG   GUNBEAKER. 


fact  connected  with  this  long  association  was  the 
prevaiUng  custom  of  never  fixing  upon  any  date  or 
place  of  meeting,  and  yet  they  seldom  failed  to 
come  together  at  some  logical  point  in  their  adven- 
tures. 


was  the 
y  date  or 

failed  to 
eir  adven- 


I; 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ROB    SAVS    HE    IS    A    GUNBEARER, 

Mention  has  been  made  of  the  French  road 
running  from  the  head  of  Le  Bras  d'Or  to  the 
settlement  of  Louisburg  on  the  shore  of  the  harbour 
by  that  name.  Though  this  way,  since  denominated 
as  the  "  Old  French  Road,"  has  become  noted  from 
later  associations,  it  was  even  then  the  most  famous 
highway  on  the  island.  This  was  partly  due  to 
its  having  been  a  common  Indian  trail  from  the  sea 
to  the  great  lake,  but  chiefly  to  the  fact  of  its  being 
the  principal  route  from  the  interior  country  to  the 
Rowing  fortress  of  Louisburg.  Upon  ceding  Nova 
Scotia  to  the  British  in  171 3,  the  French,  as  has 
been  said,  began  to  strengthen  themselves  on  Breton 
Island,  and  in  1720  Louisburg  was  founded  as  a 
military  and  naval  station.  Fortifications  were  im- 
mediately begun,  which  required  twenty-five  years  to 
complete,  at  a  cost  of  30,000,000  livres,  a  prodigious 
sum  for  those  days.  At  this  time  the  works  were 
practically  completed,  the  fortress,  with  walls  thirty 

257 


*ir«v. 


!58 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


feet  high  and  forty  thick,  being  surrounded  by  a 
moat  eighty  feet  wide.  These  extensive  fortifica- 
tions, styled  the  "Gibraltar  of  America,"  covered 
two  and  a  half  acres,  and  commanded  one  of  the 
finest  harbours  on  the  coast,  gained  by  an  entrance 
half  a  mile  in  width. 

Knowing  that  he  was  penetrating  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  enemy's  country,  Robert  Rogers  ad- 
vanced with  more  than  ordinary  caution  along  this 
oft-frequented  highway.  Twice  the  warning  sounds 
of  the  hoof -strokes  of  horses  driven  at  a  headlong 
rate  of  speed  caused  him  to  seek  concealment  in  the 
neighbouring  thickets,  and  while  thus  secreted  he 
saw  a  body  of  French  fjoldfcrs  pass  at  one  time, 
while  on  the  other  occasion  the  party  was  led  by  a 
priest  in  his  dark  robes,  with  three  Indians,  who 
seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  body-guard  for  him. 

His  narrow  escape  from  meeting  these  parties,  and 
the  knowledge  that  he  was  likely  to  meet  others  on 
foot  at  any  moment,  showed  our  hero  that,  at  his 
most  convenient  opportunity,  he  had  better  abandon 
the  public  road  for  the  trackless  forest.  But  this 
was  the  most  direct  route,  as  the  Woodranger  had 
described  it,  and  ae  resolved  to  follow  the  road  until 
he  resK^hed  the  River  Miray,  where  he  hope^  to  be 
fortunate  en^^jgh  to  obtain  a  canoe  He  was  the 
more  anxious  to  continue  this  course  for  the  reason 
that   it    was  n-sceasary   to   ;»ursue   the   nearest   and 


A'<9/.'   SAVS  HE  IS  A   GUNBEARER. 


easiest  route  in  order  to  reach  Main-i-Dieu  in  season 
to  save  the  doomed  inhabitants. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  a  bank  of  clouds 
on  the  west,  and  the  pine  forest  was  throwing  its 
deep  shadows  across  the  old  military  road.  Rob  was 
beginning  to  wonder  how  much  farther  he  must  go 
before  reaching  the  river,  when  a  wild,  piercing 
shriek  rang  on  the  air,  which  a  moment  before  had 
borne  an  oppressive  stillness.  The  cry  was  one  of 
fear  rather  than  pain,  and  the  tone  was  that  of  a 
man.  It  was  swiftly  followed  by  a  second,  more 
proloiiged,  and  then  was  heard  the  heavy  tread  of 
some  one  rushing  furiously  up  the  road. 

If  Rob  had  thought  of  escaping  a  meeting  with 
this  stranger,  he  was  given  scan:*  time  to  conceal 
himself  before  the  man  came  into  sight.  It  was  too 
dark  to  distinguish  his  features,  but  his  white  face 
showed  uncommon  terror,  while  his  lon^  hair  was 
flying  out  behind  his  head. 

Quickly  raising  his  gun,  our  hero  ordered  him  to 
stop.  The  unexpected  appearance  of  some  one  in 
his  pathway,  and  the  sight  of  the  firearm  with  its  sin- 
gle eye  staring  him  in  the  face,  following  so  swiftly 
on  his  previous  cause  for  fright,  gave  the  fugitive 
a  shock  that  caused  him  to  sink  to  the  ground, 
moaning : 

•'  Howly  mither !  it's  dead  an'  kilt  I  am  intoirely 
without  so  much  es  sayln'  me  prayahs." 


If 


26o 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  What  is  the  trouble  ? "  demanded  Rob,  who  had 
hard  work  to  keep  from  laughing  at  the  man's 
display  of  hopelessness. 

"  Begorra !  it's  a  dead  man  sp'akin'  to  yees,"  re- 
plied the  other,  whose  nationality  was  betrayed  by 
his  speech. 

"  Well,  dead  or  alive,  get  up,"  said  Rob. 

"  Och,  save  me  !  it's  spacheless  I  am  in  me  limbs, 
or  a  liar's  Phin  O'Regan." 

"  There  seems  to  be  life  enough  left  in  your 
tongue.  I  want  to  know  what  all  this  rumpus 
means  ? " 

"  Suah,  an'  all  th'  rumpus  there  be  wuz  made  by 
a  dead  man,  or  I'm  not  who  1  wuz  an'  he's  not  me. 
Me  head  stood  on  me  feet  and  me  heart  stopped  its 
b'atin'  at  the  soight !  An'  afore  I  see'd  y'it  I  wuz 
a  diien  rods  away." 

binding  that  Rob  did  not  mean  him  harm,  the 
Irishman  began  to  collect  his  scattered  wits,  and,  by 
the  time  he  had  finished  his  sentence,  he  had  risen 
to  his  knees.  His  face  was  still  pale,  and  his  teeth 
fairly  chattered  as  he  uttered  his  incoher/^nt  speech. 

"  I  see  no  cause  for  alarm,"  declared  Rob. 

"That's  cos  you  ain't  see'd  what  I  see'd.  There's 
a  dead  man  hangin'  down  in  that  buildin'  alive,  or 
Phin  O'Regan's  eyes  air  doomb  !  " 

He  had  now  risen  to  his  feet,  and,  catching  upon 
Rob's  arm,  was  pointing  down  the  road  from  the 


ROB   SAYS   HE   IS  A    GUNBEARER. 


limbs, 


direction  whence  he  had  just  come.  No  unusual 
sight  met  the  gaze  of  Rob,  but,  determined  to  solve 
the  cause  of  the  Irishman's  fright,  he  said : 

"  Come  with  me  and  show  me  what  you  mean," 

"  Not  while  Phin  O'Regan  knows  hisself,"  but  as 
Rob  started  down  the  road  he  followed  him,  keeping 
close  to  the  young*"ranger.  A  turn  in  the  road  a 
couple  of  rods  below  suddenly  brought  them  in  sight 
of  an  old  block-house  or  garrison  standing  in  an  open- 
ing in  the  forest.  It  bore  a  deserted  appearance,  and 
as  the  two  stopped,  the  only  sound  falling  on  their 
hearing  was  the  sharp  chirrup  of  some  insect  lurking 
in  the  grass  by  the  wayside.  The  building  was  a 
two-storied  structure  built  of  logs,  with  two  openings 
in  the  end  toward  them,  which  had  evidently  served 
the  purpose  of  a  window  for  each  story.  There  were 
several  loopholes  to  b(;  seen  in  the  wall.  On  the 
side  which  confronted  the  road  was  an  open  door- 
way. 

"  Teit  me  what  you  saw  there,"  said  Rob,  shaking 
the  Irishman  vigorously.  "  I  am  goi//g  to  kno^  H' 
once  what  all  this  foolitig  means.  Spit  it  out,  or  it 
will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"  I  ain't  dune  any  hurt,"  sputtered  the  Irishman. 
"  I  wm  a-rnailin'  along  the  walk,  when  that  buildin' 
wint  ftrninst  into  me,  an'  I  looked  an'  I  see  a  did  man 
a-I.angin'  by  a  rope  frum  th'  roofters.  Be  me  soul 
in  purgatory,  this  is  th'  thruth,  hull  and  nothin'  —  " 


%■ 


%    V 


\% 


262 


THE    YOUNG   GUNHEARER. 


"Why  didn't  you  say  so  before?"  broke  in  Rob, 
who  felt  that  he  was  losing  far  too  much  time  over  a 
matter  that  did  not  concern  him.  But  the  man's 
words  had  given  him  to  understand  that  some  one 
had  been  foully  dealt  with,  and  without  longer  delay 
he  resolved  to  solve  the  mystery.  Regardless  of  the 
fact  that  some  trap  might  be  laid  for  him,  a  condi- 
tion which  did  not  seem  at  all  probable  to  him,  he 
started  toward  the  lonely  block-house,  Phin  O'Regan 
calling  him  back. 

"Not  fer  me  sowl  w'u'd  I  enter  there  at  all,  at 
all.  '  Perhaps,  however,  he  was  afraid  to  remain 
alone,  for  he  followed  upon  the  heels  of  Rob,  who 
boldly  entered  the  old  garrison.  It  was  too  dark 
within  for  him  to  discover  any  object  at  first,  but 
upon  glancing  up  toward  the  second  story,  he  saw, 
dangling  in  the  starlight  that  struggled  in  through 
the  opening  in  the  wall,  a  human  form.  It  was  a 
man's  figure,  and  he  was  evidently  suspended  from 
the  roof  overhead. 

He  did  not  wonder  so  much  at  the  terror  of  the 
Irishman,  who  was  now  cowering  behind  him,  for  the 
uncanny  sight  at  first  sent  a  chill  through  his  frame. 
But  quickly  recovering  his  usual  command  over  him- 
self, Rob  stepped  forward  under  the  aperture  which 
led  to  the  upper  floor,  when  he  got  a  better  view 
of  the  drooping  figure.  Now  that  he  had  got  nearer, 
he  had  discovered  an  unnaturalness  about  the  form 


ROB  SAYS  //A    /S  A    GUNRRARER. 


263 


in  Kob, 
e  over  a 
e  man's 
)me  one 
er  delay 
s  of  the 
a  condi- 
him,  he 
)'Regan 


which  caused  hiiu  to  laugh,  while  I'hin  O' Regan  con- 
tinued to  mutter  over  his  exclamations  of  termi 

Several  small  sticks,  fastened  upon  the  wall  one 
above  another,  fi.i  /ned  a  sort  of  rude  ladder  by  which 
to  reach  the  second  story,  and  without  further  iiesilu- 
tion  Rob  ascended,  hand  over  hand.  At  the  to,<  he 
was  convinced  of  what  he  had  felt  confident  when  on 
the  floor  below.  The  limp  figure  was  nothing  more 
than  the  dummy  of  a  man,  that  had  been  made  up 
and  left  hanging  there.  The  clothes  were  those  of 
a  British  officer,  and,  though  Rob  had  no  reason  for 
knowing  then,  he  afterward  learned  that  it  was  the 
effigy  of  the  English  governor  of  New  Scotland, 
whom  some  of  his  enemirs  had  thus  treated  as  an 
expression  of  their  hatred  for  him. 

Rob  quickly  cut  the  rope  holding  the  figure,  aiid 
the  object  fell  at  his  feet.  He  was  about  to  push  it 
down  the  opening  to  the  lower  floor  when  the  sound 
of  hoof-strokes  suddenly  fell  on  his  ears,  and  a  cry  of 
alarm  rang  from  Phin  O'Regan.  This  was  succeeded 
by  a  gunshot,  and  a  medley  of  cries  rang  out,  while 
a  body  of  horsemen  halted  at  the  door.  It  was  a 
critical  situation  for  Rob,  who  anticipated  meeting 
none  bnt  enemies  in  that  vicinity. 

A  moment  later  the  room  below  was  thronged  with 
men,  whom  he  quickly  judged  to  be  French  soldiers. 
If  he  had  any  doubts  of  this  they  were  dispelled  by 
the  stem  command  of  their  leader,  who  exclaimed  : 


$' 


'!»*";■ 


wmm 


\ 


^rm 


^^ 


s.^J 


V%*„^la5# 


^f*— 


BMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


LI 


1.25 


1.4 


IM 
M 

1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Coiporation 


y 


<  '% 


^<' 


c^. 


{< 


fA 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  :i.Y.  14580 

(716)  A72-4503 


nrnm  in^^Mw^— i^ 


EdI 


«■■ 


; 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


web»*6 -'^i^^-w . -11  »f«i*.y-.'**^i^  (i!«*ssia«*R-w^^ 


i,;/Jt*M^VSJk'«^«^^^^^^i!9«i*A*&A%*iK^  ■-.{.■a^:  i>".. 


264 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  Who  are  you,  sl/anger,  who  dares  to  be  prowling 
round  here?" 

This  was  spoken  in  French,  and  not  belie v^ing  that 
the  speaker  had  really  seen  him,  Rob's  first  thought 
was  to  remain  silent.  He  had  heard  the  heavy  steps 
of  Phin  O'Regaa  in  his  flight,  and  believed  some  of 
the  horsemen  had  gone  in  pursuit  of  the  Irishman. 
Just  how  many  of  the  squad  were  about  the  old 
garrison  he  had  no  way  of  telling,  but  he  judged 
there  were  not  less  than  half  a  dozen.  But  it  seemed 
more  prudent  for  him  to  answer,  and  he  believed  that 
some  way  of  escape  would  open  to  him.  He  had 
been  among  the  French  of  Canada  and  had  picked 
up  a  smattering  of  their  tongue,  so  he  replied  to  the 
challenge  of  the  officer,  who  was  showing  his  impa- 
tience by  beginning  to  approach  the  side  of  the 
building  under  the  rude  stairway : 

"  A  friend." 

"  Where  from  ? " 

"  The  Subenacadie." 

"A  Neutral.'" 

This  question  was,  more  difficult  to  answer,  but 
Rob  resolved  to  put  on  a  bold  front,  and  said : 

"  No." 

"  What  are  you  then  ? " 

Rob  did  not  fail  to  detect  the  eagerness  with 
which  this  question  was  asked,  and  he  was  confident 
that  so  far  he  had  passed  a  satisfactory  examination. 


piowling 

|ving  that 
thought 
ivy  steps 
some  of 
rishman. 
the  old 
^  judged 
t  seemed 
2ved  that 
He  had 
d  picked 
:d  to  the 
his  impa- 
cf  the 


ver,  but    " 
said : 


ss  with 
)nfident 
ination. 


ROB  SAYS  HE  IS  A    GUNBEARER. 


265 


If  not  a  Neutral,  whom  the  French  despised,  he  must 
either  avow  himself  a  friend  of  the  English  or  pro- 
claim himself  what  he  was  in  a  certain  respect, 
though  not  just  as  he  would  have  the  other  infer. 
He  replied  without  hesitation  and  with  apparent 
frankness : 

"  A  Gunbearer ! " 

"  Good  !  "  exclaimed  the  man  below,  "  In  that 
case  you  need  not  hesitate  to  join  us.  If  you  have 
come  from  the  Siibcnacadie,  you  must  be  able  to 
give  us  some  word  of  the  expedition  to  Main-^-Dieu. 
TJ  ere  is  an  air  c*  silence  about  the  whole  affair  which 
makes  me  distrust  its  leaders.  Come  down  here  at 
once." 


f:'M;if' 


i^^mmU 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


HOW    ROB    CARRIED    THE    NEWS    TO    MAIN  -  X  -  DIEU. 

During  this  brief  conversation  Rob  had  glanced 
about  him,  with  the  hope  of  seeing  some  way  of 
escape,  for  he  had  no  real  intention  of  placing  him- 
self willingly  in  the  power  of  the  man  below  him. 
He  had  no  reason  to  believe  he  could  deceive  him 
long,  once  he  appeared  before  him.  While  it  might 
answer  a  very  good  purpose,  as  far  as  a  delay  in 
action  was  concerned,  to  claim  to  be  a  Gunbearer, 
yet,  as  soon  as  he  should  dare  to  show  himself  among 
the  soldiers,  they  would  quickly  discover  that  he  did 
not  belong  to  their  side.  To  fall  into  their  hands 
meant  the  fate  of  a  spy  to  him. 

Before  he  had  replied  to  the  last  query  his  plan  of 
action  had  formed  itself  in  his  mind,  and,  as  the  com- 
mand of  the  officer  was  spoken,  he  pushed  the  efFigy 
at  his  feet  out  into  the  opening,  so  that  the  feet  and 
ankles  hung  over  ihe  other's  head  and  could  be 
plainly  seen  in  spite  of  the  darkness  of  the  building. 
As  the  body  did  not  immediately  follow  the  lower 

266 


X-DIEU. 

d  glanced 
le  way  of 
icing  him- 
dow  him. 
;ceive  him 
i  it  might 
1  delay  in 
jiunbearer, 
ielf  among 
lat  he  did 
leir  hands 

lis  plan  of 
3  the  com- 

the  efFigy 
e  feet  and 

could  be 
!  building, 
the  lower 


//Ofy  ROB  CARRIED    THE   NEWS. 


267 


limbs,  and  these  remained  motionless,  the  commander 
demanded : 

"  Wh)  don't  you  come  along  ?  We  can't  fool  here 
with  you  all  night." 

Upon  receiving  no  reply,  and  finding  that  the  figure 
still  remained  motionless,  he  repeated  his  question, 
adding  this  time  that  he  would  give  him  just  one 
minute  in  which  to  come  down,  or  he  would  order  a 
volley  of  shot  to  be  poured  into  him.  Still  the  feet 
hung  there  motionless,  and  finally  the  exasperated 
ofi^.cer  ordered  that  three  of  his  party  fire  at  the  per- 
son above  them.  In  1  moment  three  reports,  ring- 
ing out  as  one,  filled  the  building  with  the  sharp 
sound,  while  the  bullets  of  the  marksmen  whistled 
into  the  opening  overhead.  One  of  the  feet  was 
seen  to  swing  back  and  forth  for  a  moment,  and  then 
it  again  became  still.  Not  a  sound  had  preceded  or 
followed  the  volley. 

Thoroughly  mystified  over  th.;  affair,  the  officer 
ordered  two  of  his  men  to  ascend  to  the  second  story 
while  the  rest  kept  a  watch  over  the  place,  with 
the  command  to  fire  at  the  least  movement  of  the 
mysterious  person  in  concealment.  At  that  moment 
an  alarm  came  from  outside  the  building,  and  confu- 
sion and  excitement  followed. 

In  the  meantime,  Robert  Rogers  had  carried  into 
effect  his  daring  plan  of  escape.  After  pushing  the 
eflligy  over  the  edge  of  the  opening  overhanging  the 


268 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


■I 


lower  story,  he  had  sped  with  light  steps  toward 
the  opposite  end  of  the  building,  where  there  was 
another  window.  The  second  demand  of  the  officer 
reached  his  cars,  as  he  let  himself  out  through  the 
opening,  and  swung  himself  down  toward  the  ground. 
The  descent  was  not  over  twelve  feet,  and  he  dropped 
to  the  earth  uninjured. 

He  had  expected  to  continue  his  flight  on  foot, 
hoping  to  escape  und^r  cover  of  the  darkness  of  the 
forest,  but  he  now  made  a  discovery  which  afforded 
him  a  thrill  of  pleasure.  The  soldiers  had  left  their 
horses  under  charge  of  a  couple  of  orderlies  at  the 
corner  of  the  old  garrison  house.  So,  vith  his  cus- 
tomary rapidity  and  daring,  Rob  stepped  to  the 
nearest  animal,  quietly  took,  the  rein  from  the  hand 
of  the  soldier,  and  vaulted  into  the  saddle. 

So  quickly  and  unexpectedly  was  this  done  that  the 
orderly  stood  gazing  after  the  retreating  horseman 
until  he  had  ridden  out  of  sight,  before  he  realised 
what  had  taken  place.  Even  then  he  was  in  doubt 
as  to  whether  it  had  been  a  friend  or  enemy  who  had 
mounted  the  horse  before  his  very  eyes  and  dash'ed 
furiously  down  the  road.  His  companion,  not  he, 
gave  the  alarm,  and,  amid  the  confusing  exclamations 
and  attempts  to  place  the  blame,  the  fugitive  must 
have  been  nearly  two  miles  away  before  a  pursuit 
was  undertaken. 

Rob  soon  found  that  he  was  riding  a  good  horse, 


^i 


teps  toward 
2  there  was 
i  the  officer 
through  the 
the  ground. 
I  he  dropped 

ght  on  foot, 
kness  of  the 
lich  afforded 
ad  left  their 
erlies  at  the 
B^'ith  his  cus- 
pped  to  the 
am  the  hand 
e. 

done  that  the 
ng  horseman 
e  he  realised 
was  in  doubt 
emy  who  had 
s  and  dash'ed 
nion,  not  he, 
;  exclamations 
fugitive  must 
"ore  a  pursuit 

a  good  horse, 


//OIV  ROB   CARRIED   THE  NEWS. 

and  as  he  flew  along  the  road  toward  Louisburg  he 
was  in  a  very  pleasant  state  of  mind. 

"With  this  horse  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  reach 
Main-^-Dieu,"  he  thought,  "and  so  a  good  result 
will  come  of  my  adventure.  I  wonder  what  has 
become  of  poor  Phin.  He  was  the  worst  specimen 
of  a  scared  Irishman  I  ever  ran  across.  I  don't 
know  whether  to  blame  him  or  thank  him  for  that 
little  '  amaze.-nent,'  as  the  Woodranger  would  call  it. 
He  always  said  I  had  great  ability  to  run  into 
trouble,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  he  is  right.  Helloa ! 
I  wonder  which  way  I  had  better  go." 

He  had  crossed  the  River  Miray  soon  after  leaving 
the  old  garrison,  and  now  he  had  come  to  a  byway 
turning  off  from  the  Louisburg  road  on  his  left. 

"  Main-i-Dieu  must  be  to  the  east,"  he  thought. 
«'  It  will  not  do  for  me  to  keep  on  much  nearer  Louis- 
burg. Ay,  I  am  going  to  risk  it.  If  this  path 
comes  to  an  end  in  the  woods,  I  will  leave  the  horse 
and  push  ahead  on  foot."  Soon  after  he  had  entered 
this  unfrequented  pathway,  the  troopers  dashed  past 
the  fork  in  the  ways  at  a  swinging  pace,  thinking  the 
fugitive  was  still  rding  toward  Louisburg. 

The  hoof  strokes  of  his  horse  being  muffled  by 
the  loose  earth  of  the  path,  Rob  urged  the  animal 
ahead  as  fast  as  the  condition  of  the  route  would  per- 
mit. His  fear  that  the  way  might  prove  nothing 
more  than  a  bridle-path  leading  into  the  woods  gradu 


270 


THE    YOUNG    GUNIi RARER. 


ally  left  him,  as  he  kept  on  mile  after  mile  without 
seeing  any  sign  of  this  being  the  case.  Finally,  when 
the  moon  was  visible  for  a  short  time  on  the  eastern 
horizon,  and  then  disappeared  behind  the  clouds  that 
had  now  enveloped  the  entire  sky,  he  suddenly  found 
himself  upon  another  highway.  He  saw  that  it  had 
the  appearance  of  being  much  travelled,  so  he  became 
more  cautious  in  his  advance.  It  was  really  the  road 
from  Louisburg  to  Sydney,  the  capital  of  Breton 
Island. 

For  the  second  time  Rob  felt  some  hesitation  about 
the  proper  course  for  him  to  pursue.  He  was  confi- 
dent that  Louisburg  was  some  miles  to  his  right,  and 
that  the  general  direction  of  his  destination  lay  ahead. 
But  this  route  led  through  a  den.se  wilderness,  where 
it  would  be  impossible  for  a  horse  to  penetrate,  and 
exceedingly  slow  for  a  man  to  force  his  way.  A  road 
had  been  described  as  branching  from  the  Sydney 
route  near  the  right  bank  of  the  Miray  River.  This 
stream  was  to  his  left,  and  ran  to  his  north,  as  he 
faced  the  east.  Having  come  to  this  conclusion,  he 
quickly  decided  upon  his  course. 

Wheeling  his  horse  about,  he  headed  him  up  the 
Sydney  road,  and  never  slackened  his  speed  until  the 
long  bridge  spanning  the  broad  Miray  was  in  sight. 
He  had  seen  a  little  cluster  of  farmhouses  on  the  road 
at  one  place,  and  just  beyond  this  had  passed  three 
foot-travellers.     He  was  hailed  by  one  of  these,  and 


Ic  without 
lally,  when 
he  eastern 
:louds  that 
enly  found 
that  it  had 

he  became 
ly  the  road 

of   Breton 

:ation  about 
e  was  confi- 
s  right,  and 
n  lay  ahead, 
-ness,  where 
:netrate,  and 
ay.  A  road 
the  Sydney 
liver.  This 
north,  as  he 
inclusion,  he 

him  up  the 
;ed  until  the 
ivas  in  sight. 
s  on  the  road 
passed  three 
)f  these,  and 


"THE    OCCUPANT    OF    THE    DWELLING   , 
AT   THE   DOOR." 


.    SOON    APPEARED 


i^^mi:* 


m 


■I'W^  I 


.  l;ii!HipiBpii.ii|ij i  u* 


Ea)^^!*5», 


he  heard  dire  threats  hurled  after  him,  as  he  sped  on. 
Heyond  these  incidents  nothing  had  occurred  to  awaken 
his  suspicion.  He  now  turned  to  the  right,  following 
the  road  to  Main4-Dieu,  and  entered  on  the  last  stage 
of  his  journey. 

The  night  hung  over  the  little  fishing  hamlet  of 
Main-^-Dieu  with  dark  threatenings  of  rain,  as  Rob 
Rogers  rode  along  its  single  street.  No  one  was 
astir,  and  only  one  faint  light  glimmered  like  a  feeble 
star  in  the  darkness.  With  a  feeling  of  rejoicing 
that  his  tremendous  journey  —  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable made  in  the  history  of  the  colonies  —  was 
completed  m  time,  he  urged  his  now  weary  horse 
toward  this  place.  A  minute  later  he  was  calling  to 
the  occupant  of  the  dwelling,  who  soon  appeared  at 
the  door,  candle  in  hand.  The  flickering  blaze  was 
quickly  extinguished  by  the  sea-breeze,  and  standing 
in  darkness,  wondering  to  whom  he  v/as  speaking,  the 
man  inquired  what  this  midnight  summons  meant. 

First  inquiring  if  this  was  the  settlement  he  wished 
to  reach,  Rob  then  explained  the  peril  menacing  the 
town,  while  the  other  listened  with  horror. 

"  My  wife  is  sick,"  he  said.  "  What  can  we  do  ? 
Are  you  sure  they  will  come  to-night  ?  " 

"They  are  due  at  this  hour,"  replied  Rob.  "A 
friend  and  I  have  come  from  Grand  Pr6  to  warn  you. 
Stir  yourself,  sir,  if  you  value  your  life." 

"  My  wife  is  very  sick,  and  — " 


!.      ' 


272 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


\ 


Rob  did  not  stop  to  hear  any  more,  but,  leaving 
the  man  standing  in  the  doorway  peering  after  him, 
he  rode  on  to  the  next  house.  Here  he  was  success- 
ful in  making  the  inmates  understand  the  peril  hang- 
ing over  them  and  the  necessity  of  immediate  action. 

'<  Your  news  does  not  surprise  me  very  much," 
said  one  of  them,  "for  1  have  felt  that  the  French 
were  planning  an  uprising.  It  is  not  safe  for  a  New 
England  man  to  remain  here.  By  Jove !  I  have  hit 
upon  a  plan,  and  I  believe  it  is  the  best  thing  we  can 
do.  There  is  a  fishing- vessel  just  l  JOve  here  that  put 
in  this  afternoon  from  the  Banks.  It  is  bound  to 
Boston,  and  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  take  pas- 
sage in  her  to  New  England.  I,  for  one,  have  little 
to  keep  me  here,  and  we  are  all  sure  to  lose  our 
homes  sooner  or  later." 

Rob  agreed  with  this  man,  and  inside  of  ten  min- 
utes the  others  of  the  settlement  had  been  aroused, 
and  the  situation  explained  to  them.  The  majority 
quickly  consented  to  the  flight,  believing  it  was  inev- 
itable. The  rest,  finding  their  companions  were  in 
earnest,  accepted  the  scheme  so  far,  at  least,  as  seek- 
ing safety  on  board  of  the  ship  until  the  affair  should 
be  over. 

B(.ats  were  readily  found,  a  messenger  sent  to  the 
ship,  while  preparations  were  made  for  the  wholesale 
removal.  There  was  something  wild  and  strange  in 
this  midnight  flight,  and  the  feelings  of  the  fugitives 


\  ! 


p^»*^.».T. >*•-(*  •)*a«i.'>*i3*6*w*-s* 


■p.  «f >(  ^  .KlXf^i^  i.)0  j«>*««..*  *.-s 


l^n 


NOH^  MOB   CARRIED    THE  NEWS. 


273 


were  those  of  sadness  at  leaving  their  homes  in  this 
manner,  and  of  hatied  toward  their  enemies.  The 
ship's  commander  lent  such  assistance  as  he  and  his 
crew  could,  so  that  inside  of  an  hour  from  the  time 
Robert  Rogers  had  ridden  into  Main-a-Dieu  every 
house  occupied  by  an  English  settler  was  empty. 
This  was  done  with  a  quietness  that  did  not  awaken 
the  French  portion  of  the  population  to  what  was 
taking  place. 

Mindful  of  his  promise  to  the  Woodranger,  Rob 
had  decided  to  accompany  the  rest  on  this  voyage  to 
New  England  ^hat  he  might  carry  the  news  of  the 
plans  of  the  French  government  to  depopulate  the 
country  of  the  English.  When  the  last  boat  load 
was  moving  down  the  harii  ur,  and  no  sign  of  the 
allied  raiders  had  yet  been  seen,  there  were  those 
among  the  fugitives  who  began  to  think  their  step 
had  been  taken  too  hastily,  and  that  the  young  stran- 
ger had  brought  them  false  nr-vs.  But  Rob  was  not 
long  under  suspicion,  for  io  narrow  was  the  escape 
that  the  vessel  had  not  been  reached  before  the  war- 
cry  of  the  enemies  was  heard.  Then,  as  the  ship 
stoc>d  boldly  down  the  harbour,  the  anxious  watchers 
saw  a  sheet  of  fire  shoot  into  the  dark  space  of 
night.  This  was  quickly  followed  by  others,  until 
every  English  home  in  Main-^-Dieu  was  wrapped  in 
flames.  With  what  mingled  sensations  the  fugitives 
witnessed  this  stirring  spectacle   may  be   imagined, 


r:t 


M 


274 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


knowing  how  narrowly  they  had  saved  their  lives 
through  the  timely  warning  of  the  boy  ranger,  who 
stood  slightly  apart  from  the  others,  wondering,  as 
he  saw  the  fires  leap  up  at  the  different  places,  where 
his  friend,  the  Woodranger,  was  at  that  moment,  and 
wishing  that  he  was  with  him. 


iff 


m. 


■if 


^i-.>.j.-iv;'«i  an;  ■■«?»!*'*»■'' " 


i>5a»jJM«a*wy-  v-»^  ^«K*a«ft->'-ftiSiWi*«fi-t^'"*e:  -J^ 


in 


their  lives 


anger, 


who 


ndering,  as 
aces,  where 
oment,  and 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE   LOUISBURG   EXPEDITION. 

"  Zounds,  man !  was  it  you  speaking  or  myself } 
The  words  were  in  my  thoughts,  but  they  seemed  to 
slip  from  your  tongue."  The  speaker,  turn-'-  g  sharply 
about  with  his  usual  brusque  manner,  began  to  pace 
the  floor  excitedly.  He  was  none  other  than  Captaui 
Willian.  Vaughan,  in  whose  interest  Rob  Rogers 
and  the  Woodranger  had  gone  to  Acadia,  as  has 
been  described.  He  v/as  a  son  oi  Lieut. -Cover no 
Vaughan,  and  was  at  that  time  actively  engaged  in 
founding  a  settlement  at  Damariscotta,  now  Nob(e- 
boro,  Maine.  He  was  also  concerned  in  the  fisheries 
off  the  B:;nks,  so  it  will  be  seen  that  he  was  prom- 
inent in  the  affairs  of  the  day.  Moreover,  he  was 
a  man  of  ready  judgment,  strong  convictions,  and 
swift  and  determmed  in  his  action. 

His  speech  wai;  directed  to  our  old  friend,  the 
Woodranger,  whom  last  we  saw  in  the  company  of 
the  two  Hanaford  boys,  taking  them  to  a  place  of 
safety.  In  that  he  was  entirely  successful,  and,  after 
seeing  them  safe  in  the  arms  of  their  overjoyed  par- 

275 


'f 


j;6 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


ents,  he  took  passage  on  a  ship  that  happened  to  be 
in  a  near-by  port,  and  had  thus  been  able  to  reach 
this  Httle  frontier  post  of  Captain  Vaughan's  in  the 
early  part  of  September.  He  had  not  seen  or 
heard  anything  of  Rob,  except  to  learn  that  the 
inhabitants  of  Maina-Dieu  had  taken  flight  for  New 
England.  He  had  beheved  that  Rob  would  join 
them,  and  thus  he  had  sought  Captain  Vaughan 
with  all  the  promptness  possible  to  report  the  result 
of  the  visit  of  himself  and  Rob  Rogers  to  New 
Scotland. 

Captain  Vaughan  listened  with  surprise  to  the  for- 
ester's story,  often  interrupting  him  with  questions 
and  ejaculations.  Still,  he  was  not  greatly  shocked 
over  the  opening  of  hostilities  by  the  French,  until 
the  Woodranger  had  come  to  tell  of  the  proposed 
scheme  to  capture  the  whole  of  New  England  and 
New  York.  Upon  hearing  this,  he  rose  to  his  feet, 
and  began  to  pace  the  floor,  smiting  his  hands  to- 
gether and  uttering  strong  exclamations. 

"Now's  me,"  declared  the  Woodranger,  v/ithout 
heeding  the  increasing  excitement  of  his  companion, 
"there  be  ne'er  so  discreet  a  jodge  as  him  who 
speaks  from  personal  p'ints.  It  be  true  I  was  inside 
o'  the  works  o'  Lonisburg  onc't,  but  that  was  some 
time  since,  and  the  'fair  was  that  backward  in  being 
built  that  it  may  have  changed  much  since,  so  my 
knack   at   reading   sign   be   not    parfect.     But    the 


~'  >»B«iSr*-Ji.^A'.-Wi*W***t?*a* 


^,^^,:.;^>^^.,Ji»»S*V*'*^K**^■^^ 


THE  LOU  IS  BURG  EXPEDITION. 


277 


stream  that  runs  straight  is  easy  to  follow,  and  it  be 
a  straight  p'int  for  me  to  see  that,  so  long  as  war  is 
on  and  that  Frinch  stronghold  is  permitted  to  stand 
as  a  rendezvous  for  the  Frinch  and  painted  heathens, 
so  long  will  New  England  be  under  the  fire  o'  a  big- 
sized  amazement.  If  an  inemy  stood  in  front  0'  me, 
I'd  consider  it  my  bounden  duty  to  drive  him  from 
his  ambushment,  though  he  be  bigger'n  I.  Man's 
duty  may  not  always  be  p'inted  with  discretion." 

It  was  then  Captain  Vaughan  struck  his  hsts  to- 
gether with  greater  force,  and  he  uttered  th**  speech 
which  opens  this  chapter.  Though  he  had  not  seen 
Louisburg,  the  French  fortress,  he  was  quite  familiar 
with  it  from  second-hand  descriptions.  Many  of  his 
fishermen  had  seen  it,  and  remarked  upon  its  bold 
position  and  its  value  as  an  outlying  post.  The 
more  minute  description  of  the  Woodranger  had  sug- 
gested to  him  the  daring  project  hinted  at  by  the 
astute  forester,  to  whom,  notwithstanding  his  pecul- 
iar view  of  prudence,  nothing  was  really  improbable 
or  impossible.  But  he  might  have  mentioned  this 
same  idea  to  almost  any  other  man  m  New  England 
than  Captain  Vaughan,  and  been  laughed  at  for  his 
pains,  or  been  treated  with  silent  contempt.  This 
resolute  soldier  showed  how  readily  he  fell  in  with 
the  scheme  by  beginning  to  lay  out  at  once  a  plan 
of  procedure. 

"Let   me   see  what   method   had  better  be  fol- 


r 


278 


rj/£    YOUA'G   GUNBEARER. 


lowed;"  said  Captain  Vaughan,  speaking  as  much  to 
himself  as  his  companion.  "  You  are  a  man  versed 
in  warfare,  Woodranger.  What  suggestion  have  you 
to  offer  ? " 

"Mebbe  it  be  a  knack  given  me  to  pick  up  the 
tracks  o'  the  bear  and  the  painter,  or  the  trail  o'  the 
red.  Aye,  I  do  not  previcate  the  truth,  and  I  trust 
I  ne'er  may  be  thought  to  be  boasting,  when  I  say 
that  I  may  have  mastered  some  o'  natur's  secrets, 
seeing  natur's  book  be  open  to  all,  but  in  this  war- 
fare 0'  plain  shooting,  where  it  is  luck  and  not  knack 
that  wins,  I  am  not  adept.  I  can  ne'er  dissemble, 
man,  it  be  wanton  slaying  o'  human  lives.  And  yet, 
seeing  you  have  called  my  attention  to  it,  —  mind 
you,  I  ne'er  wish  to  trail  o'er  another  man's  jedg- 
ment,  —  a  goodish  force  o'  troops  might  be  taken  bj'' 
sLps  within  a  short  distance  o'  the  works,  and  then 
set  ashore,  to  creep  'pon  the  inemy  and  ketch  'em 
napping,  like  squirrels  in  their  winter  quarters." 

"  Winter  quarters ! "  cried  Captain  Vaughan. 
"  Man  alive !  that  gives  me  an  idea.  The  snow 
must  fall  to  a  great  depth  in  that  region } " 

"  It  do,  'yon'  prevication." 

"  And  in  the  winter  is  often  piled  into  high 
drifts.?" 

"That  be  true.  I  do  not  disremember  how  a 
fri'nd  and  I  once  perambulated  o'er  the  snow  that 
lay  in  big  windrows  —  " 


'  ■^■SaMS?ta«l!«»J*««t&i»5«W»««Sa[WIO«»^  '~'»  "-' 


THE  LOUISBURG  EXPEDITION. 


279 


high 


'•  As  high  as  tree-tops  in  places,  no  doubt  ? " 

"  I  disremember  o'  seeing  sich  high  ones,  though 
they  do  — " 

"  You  say  the  walls  of  the  fortifications  of  Louis- 
burg  are  not  over  thirty  feet  high.  What  an  easy 
matter  it  would  be  i-^r  a  body  oi  foot-soldiers  to  be 
marched  right  over  the  works  by  climbing  one  of 
those  big  snow-drifts,  which  must  fairly  bank  up  the 
breastworks.  Zounds,  man!  the  way  to  save  New 
England  is  to  carry  war  into  the  enemy's  country. 
Louisburg  must  and  shall  be  ours  !  " 

His  impulsive  nature,  filled  with  the  thought  of 
this  daring  undertaking,  the  equal  of  which  was  not 
matched  in  the  long  and  sanguinary  wars  of  early 
New  England,  Captain  Vaughan  immediately  put 
aside  all  further  consideration  of  matters  of  a  per- 
sonal nature. 

"  Wc  must  act  in  this  affair  immediately,"  he  said. 
"  As  you  say.  New  England  must  be  warned  of  her 
danger,  and  while  you  are  doing  that  I  will  set  on 
foot  plans  to  capture  this  French  stronghold.  This 
very  scheme  of  the  government  of  France  to  slaugh- 
ter us  all  will  prove  a  powerful  incentive  to  rise 
against  the  enemy  which  stops  at  nothing  to  carry 
out  its  infamous  ends.  But  you  are  alone.  Wood- 
ranger.  Where  is  young  Rogers,  who  went  away 
with  you  .>" 

"  I  opine  the  lad  will  speak  for  himself,  William, 


"PW 


280 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


seeing  he  has  followed  me  here,"  and  he  had  barely 
finished  speaking  before  the  door  opened  and  Robert 
Rogers  stood  before  them. 

"  You  are  ahead  of  me,  Woodranger,"  extending  a 
hand,  which  was  fervently  clasped  first  by  the  Wood- 
ranger  and  then  Captain  Vaughan.  "  I  got  along  as 
soon  as  I  could.  I  had  hard  work  to  get  Captain 
Sweetser  to  put  in  here  for  me." 

"  He  is  going  to  Boston  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Rob,"  declared  Captain 
Vaughan.  "  The  Woodranger  and  I  are  planning  a 
tremendous  scheme  to  circumvent  the  French,  and 
we  want  the  help  of  just  such  fellows  as  you." 

"  I  am  sure  several  will  go  from  the  valley  of  the 
Merrimack.  In  fact,  I  am  sure  we  can  form  a  com- 
pany of  Rangers  under  Captain  John  Goffe,  who  will 
do  good  work." 

"  Good !  I  know  of  no  better  man  than  Goffe.  I 
am  sure  we  can  depend  on  Samuel  Moore,  01  Ports- 
mouth, to  head  a  company.  Oh,  New  Hampshire 
will  do  her  part.  I  will  see  Governor  Wentworth  as 
soon  as  possible.  The  matter  has  got  to  be  pushed 
right  along.  I  have  a  ship  which  will  take  us  to 
Portsmouth  without  delay,  and  we  have  got  to  act 
promptly.  Remember  also  that  secrecy  counts  in 
this  game.  Our  enemy  must  not  get  an  inkling  of 
what  is  afoot," 


"'■•.i»a,isste-3#'**'«*s!sK'-i-««;'- 


THE   LOUISBURC  EXtEDITION. 

Having  come  to  this  unanimous  conclusion  to  act 
in  the  matter,  the  three  prepared  for  immediate  de- 
parture to  Portsmouth,  which  journey  was  made  in 
safety.  At  that  place  Rob  and  the  Woodranger 
bade  adieu  to  the  genial  Captain  Vaughan,  and 
sought  their  home  in  the  Merrimack  valley,  where 
they  were  accorded  a  glad  welcome.  But  the  news 
they  brought  of  the  iepredations  of  the  French  and 
their  Indian  allies  caused  alarm  among  the  pioneers 
of  this  vicinity,  who  realised  that  they  were  in  immi- 
nent peril  of  their  lives.  Rob's  parents  lived  just 
above  the  Falls  of  Namaske,  which  was  the  home  of 
the  Starks,  while  Captain  Goffe  and  others  lived  a 
little  below,  so  he  remained  a  few  days  with  them 
before  taking  part  in  the  active  scenes  which  fol- 
lowed. 

The  work  of  carrying  out  the  plan  of  the  expedi- 
tion to  Louisburg,  though  considered  of  little  im- 
portance by  the  earlier  historians,  has  been  told 
quite  fully,  and  the  daring  and  hazard  of  the  enter- 
prise described  in  detail.  Captain  Vaughan  did  not 
rest  until  he  had  placed  the  matter  before  the  officials 
in  control  of  the  provinces  at  the  time.  The  dis- 
closure of  the  plot  of  the  French,  together  with  the 
account  of  their  fiendish  and  cold-blooded  actions, 
aroused  the  English  colonists  to  a  fighting  pitch. 
They  felt  that  these  indignities  must  be  met  squarely 
and  promptly,  or  the  worst  would  come.    The  suffer- 


i 


■  t 


•I     ! 


■^^ 


282 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


\ 


ers  at  Annapolis-Royal  had  been  largely  Massachu- 
setts men,  and  that  province  on  October  19th  declared 
war  against  the  French  and  the  Indians,  who  had  so 
largely  assisted  the  former,  and  a  bounty  was  offered 
for  scalps  and  prisoners.  Great  insecurity  was  felt 
all  along  the  line  of  the  frontier,  and  many  settle- 
ments were  broken  up  thus  early  in  the  scene,  the 
inhabitants  seeking  places  of  less  danger. 

Captain  Vaughan,  with  the  friends  whom  he  en- 
listed in  the  undertaking,  persisted  in  his  purpose 
with  remarkable  faith  and  courage.  He  appealed  to 
Governor  Wentworth  for  assistance,  but  was  told 
that  Governor  Shirley,  of  Massachusetts,  should  take 
the  first  step.  The  latter  was  willing  to  do  this,  and 
he  wrote  the  British  Ministry,  showing  the  importance 
of  capturing  Louisburg,  on  account  of  the  menace  it 
constantly  gave  the  New  England  fishermen,  the  safe 
and  convenient  place  of  refuge  for  the  French  priva- 
teers then  harassing  the  seas,  and  the  general  impor- 
tance of  the  stronghold  to  France. 

But  the  scheme,  on  the  whole,  was  considered  vis- 
ionary and  impracticable,  and  the  matter  dragged  all 
through  the  fall  and  early  part  of  the  winter.  The 
New  Hampshire  Assembly  declined  to  act  in  the 
affair,  until  Captain  Vaughan,  through  his  personal 
activity  and  influence,  succeeded  in  obtaining,  by  a 
majority  of  one,  a  vote  to  perform  its  part  in  the  pro- 
posed expedition.     Without  waiting  to  hear  from  the 


**a!gsa;3 


Kit  "nm 


THE   LOUISBURG  EXPEDITION. 


J83 


osachu- 
leclared 
I  had  so 
offered 
was  felt 
^  settle- 
ene,  the 

I  he  en- 
purpose 
lealed  to 
vas   told 
uld  take 
this,  and 
portance 
lenace  it 
the  safe 
ch  priva- 
impor- 

ered  vis- 

igged  all 

er.     The 

in  the 

personal 

^ng,  by  a 

the  pro- 

from  the 


Ministry  across  the  ocean,  Governor  Shirley  sent 
out  letters  urging  the  matter,  and  money  being  voted 
by  the  Assemblies  of  the  provinces  to  carry  on  the 
expense  and  men  called  upon  to  enlii,.,  the  expedition 
became  a  foregone  conclusion.  William  Pepperell, 
Esq.,  of  Kittery,  Maine,  was  given  the  command  of 
the  sea  and  land  forces,  though  he  had  had  no  greater 
military  experience  than  the  command  of  a  regiment 
of  militia.  But  he  proved  amply  fitted  for  the  lead- 
ership. It  must  be  remembered  that  New  England 
had  no  regular  soldiers  at  that  time,  that  this  expe- 
dition was  being  made  entirely  on  its  own  respon- 
sibility, without  waiting  for  assistance  from  the  old 
country,  which  made  the  affair  the  more  remarkable. 
On  the  other  hand,  had  they  waited  for  royal  sanc- 
tion, a  British  regular  would  have  been  placed  in  com- 
mand, and,  judging  by  other  experiences,  he  would 
have  made  a  miserable  failure  of  the  whole  under- 
taking. So  it  was  doubtless  best  just  as  it  occurred. 
Other  conditions  were  working  for  the  benefit 
of  the  daring  colonists,  though  this  was  not  under- 
stood at  the  time.  For  one  thing,  Governor  Duques- 
nel,  of  Breton  Island,  died  while  these  arrangements 
were  being  made,  and  he  was  succeeded  in  office  by 
Duchambon,  who  was  poorly  fitted  to  take  the  position. 
The  fleet  of  the  French  that  was  expected  to  destroy 
all  of  New  England  did  not  leave  France  at  all,  since, 
like  most  of  the  French  plots,  the  plan  had  been  dis- 


.: : 


■7    '       ■     ■  3 


i  'V  'M 


% 


~^ 


i 


// 


a84 


ri/E    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


closed  prematurely,  The  very  opening  of  the  war 
in  the  colonies  was  of  itself  one  of  the  worst  blunders 
on  their  parts.  Not  only  did  the  fleet  of  war  fail  to 
appear,  but  even  the  store  ships  for  the  province 
failed  to  reach  the  port  of  Louisburg.  Leaving  home 
late  in  the  season,  and  winter  coming  on  uncommonly 
early  that  year,  these  vessels  were  compelled  to  steer 
south  and  seek  refuge  in  the  West  Indies.  As  a 
result  of  the  shortage  of  provisions,  tiie  prisoners 
that  had  been  taken  at  Canseau  in  May  were  sent 
to  Boston.  From  them  much  valuable  information 
of  the  situation  and  condition  of  Louisburg  was 
obtained.  Their  accounts  strengthened  decidedly 
Captain  Vaughan's  idea. 


liiM 


the  war 
blunders 
ar  fail  to 
province 
ing  home 
ummonly 
i  to  steer 
s.     As  a 
prisoners 
were  sent 
formation 
burg  was 
decidedly 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    GUNBEARERS   OF    SILVER    RIVER. 

"  I  AM  looking  for  the  victor  of  this  match  ;  show 
him  to  me  that  I  may  trail  his  plumes  in  the  sand !  " 
exclaimed  a  loud  voice,  breaking  in  upon  the  medley 
of  joyous  cries  and  outbursts  of  merriment  with  a 
suddenness  and  chill  which  hushed  every  sound, 
while  the  half-hundred  people  gathered  within  sight 
of  the  Falls  of  the  Merrimack  glanced  up  to  see  a 
horseman  looking  down  upon  them.  The  hoof-strokes 
of  a  horse  had  been  heard  the  moment  before,  but 
no  one  had  thought  the  matter  worthy  of  attention. 
Now  the  entire  aspect  of  the  situation  seemed 
abruptly  changed. 

The  occasion  was  a  festive  gathering  of  the  pio- 
neers in  that  vicinity  to  witness  a  wrestling  match 
between  the  champions  of  the  settlement,  and  to 
celebrate  the  success  of  the  harvest  season,  for  it 
was  in  the  glorious  month  of  October.  The  gold 
and  silver,  bronze  and  brown,  of  the  frost  artist  lay 
on  the  maple  and  sumac,  the  oak  and  ash,  while  the 

as 


11 


Tl- 


286 


THE    YOUNG  QUNHEARER. 


green  of  the  pine  had  taken  on  its  autumn  tint. 
Naturally,  the  crovd  was  made  up  largely  of  the 
younger  element  of  the  population,  though  there  was 
a  generous  sprinkling  of  heads  that  vied  with  the 
silver  of  the  forest  under  the  touch  of  the  frosts 
of  years.  Among  these  was  the  well-known  and 
beloved  Archie  Stark,  still  hale,  hearty,  and  over- 
flowing with  the  sunlight  of  his  generous  nature. 
He  was  the  father  of  John  and  William  Stark,  then 
boys  in  their  teens,  but  destined  to  soon  win  for 
themselves  names  of  wide  renown. 

Close  by  Mr.  Stark,  leaning  heavily  on  a  stout 
oaken  staff,  which  like  his  own  stalwart  figure  was 
bent  and  gnarled,  stood  that  Highland  relic  of  old 
Scotland,  Robert  MacDonald,  his  thin,  silvery  locks 
falling  about  his  shoulders,  except  when  the  wanton 
autumn  breeze  played  among  them.  Beside  this 
stem,  rugged  form,  the  December  of  that  beautiful 
scene,  with  fair  hands  outstretched  over  a  young 
man  kneeling  at  her  feet,  every  outline  of  figure  and 
every  movement  one  of  perfect  grace  and  beauty,, 
stood  the  May  of  that  forest  picture.  She  was  his 
granddaughter,  Rilma,  the  child  of  his  only  son,  and 
she  was  in  the  act  of  placing  upon  th->  uncovered 
head  if  the  youth  before  her  the  crown  of  wild  flow- 
ers and  evergreen  for  the  victor  of  the  day's  tour- 
nament. The  newcomer  must  have  realised  the 
intention  of  this  fair  Queen  of   the  Foiest,  for  he 


1 


mn  tint, 
y  of  the 
here  was 
with  the 
he  frosts 
own  and 
ind  over- 
s  nature, 
ark,  then 

I  win  for 

II  a  stout 
igure  was 
lie  of  old 
/ery  locks 
le  wanton 
eside  this 

beautiful 
a  young 
figure  and 
id  beauty,, 
le  was  his 
y  son,  and 
uncovered 
wild  flow- 
iay's  tour- 
lalised  the 
;st,  for  he 


THE   GUXBEAKERS  OF  SILVER  RIVER.       2Hy 

hastened  to  cry  out,  before  any  one  c(juld  offer  him 
greeting : 

"  Hold  !  I  di-spute  his  right  to  wear  that  crown,  I 
challenge  him  to  a  bout  with  me,  and  if  he  be  not  a 
sneaking  brand  ht  will  accept." 

As  he  finished  .speaking,  the  .stranger,  for  no  person 
in  all  the  assembly  recognised  him,  threw  himself 
from  his  horse,  drew  his  tall,  athletic  figure  up  to  its 
full  height,  and  glanced  scornfully  over  the  crowd, 
saying  by  actions  if  not  in  words : 

"  See !  I  am  the  conquering  hero  !  " 

A  murmur  of  mingled  surprise  and  chagrin  ran 
over  the  throng,  and  fot  a  moment  the  gaze  of  all 
turned  to  see  what  effect  these  taunting  words  would 
have  upon  the  young  victor  of  the  match.  Without 
hesitation  he  arose  to  his  feet,  and,  as  he  stood  erect, 
an  involuntary  cry  of  wonder,  if  not  dismay,  came 
from  the  bearded  lips  of  the  unknown  rival,  for,  tall 
as  he  was,  —  six  feet  in  height  if  an  inch, —  this 
young  champion  of  Namaske  was  fully  two  inches 
his  superior,  and  he  had  never  gazed  on  a  nobler, 
more  manly  figure.  His  full,  smooth  face  was  of 
great  beauty,  while  his  dark  eyes  flashed  like  fire  as 
he  met  his  gaze. 

"  Who  are  you  who  breaks  upon  the  good  cheer  of 
a  party  of  boyish  pleasure-seekers  with  such  rude 
speech.'"  demanded  the  young  man,  in  a  clear, 
ringing  voice. 


••' } 


288 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


"  One  who  has  come  fifty  miles  to  i  how  you  what 
it  is  to  wrestle,  if  he  can  f:.id  one  here  who  dares  to 
try  him  a  bout." 

The  expressions  of  the  crowd  showed  that  this 
speech  was  not  received  with  a  spirit  of  good -will, 
and  among  the  low  mutterings  some  oue  was  heard 
to  say  : 

"  Let's  ride  the  fool  into  the  river,  boys  !  " 

The  young  champion  checked  further  utterance  of 
this  kind  by  a  wave  of  his  hand,  though  he  did  not 
instantly  reply  to  the  stranger,  who  mistook  his  hesi- 
tation for  fear,  and  exclaimed  : 

"It  is  just  as  I  expected,  and  [  have  taken  my 
long  journey  in  vain." 

"  Now's  me,"  said  the  well-known  voice  of  the 
Woodranger,  who,  unobser\'ed  by  the  others,  had  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene,  accompanied  by  Rob  Rogers, 
simultaneously  with  the  coming  of  this  blustering 
stranger,  "he  be  showing  his  w^k  pints  in  vaunting 
o'  his  strength.  I've  always  noticed,  lad,"  address- 
ing th'i  young  champion,  "  that  the  red  who  yelled . 
the  loudest  when  he  went  into  scrimmage  got  the 
fewest  scalps." 

"  I  do  not  believe  he  can  throw  me,  Woodranger, 
but  is  he  worth  the  bother .' " 

"The  leetle  animal  sometimes  makes  the  most 
noise,  and  these  be  times  when  noisy  braggarts  be 
in  the  way." 


^■■1 


fi 


/  you  what 
lo  dares  to 

!  that  this 

good-will, 

was  heard 


itterance  of 
he  did  not 
3k  his  hesi- 

;  taken  my 

)ice  of  the 
ers,  had  ap- 
{.ob  Rogers, 
;  blustering 
in  vaunting 
id,"  address- 

who  yelled . 
ige  got  the 

kVood  ranger, 

IS  the  most 
braggarts  be 


THE  GUNBEARERS  OF  SILVER  RIVER.       289 

"  Sand  his  back  for  him,  Norman,  or  I  will  do  it 
for  you.  I  will  give  you  just  three  minutes  in  which 
to  do  it,  and  then  I  have  got  something  of  impor- 
tance to  say  to  you,"  said  Robert  Rogers. 

Those  who  were  near  enough  to  catch  this  whis- 
pered conversation  gave  a  low  cheer  of  encouragement, 
which  the  nc'comer  mistook  tc  mean  admiration  for 
him,  and  he  said,  in  a  loud  tone  : 

"  I  hope  that  iine  wreath  won't  get  wilted  before 
it  is  placed  on  my  head  where  it  belongs." 

"  It  will  be,"  replied  the  young  wrestler,  whom 
Rob  had  called  Norman,  and  whose  full  name  was 
Norman  McNiel,  an  honoured  name  in  the  history 
of  those  days.     "  How  will  you  try  a  bout  with  me  .' " 

" '  Catch  as  catch  can,'  "  replied  the  other ;  "  best 
two  in  three,  with  no  stop  between  the  bouts." 

"That  just  suits  me,'  replied  Norman  McNiel, 
stepping  forward  still  bareheaded,  while  his  friends 
cheered  loudly.  "Select  your  ground,  sir,  and  give 
the  word." 

The  stranger,  handing  the  reins  of  his  horse  to  a 
bystander,  advanced  at  a  swift  pace,  and,  without 
uttering  a  word,  seized  upon  Norman  with  the  evi- 
dent purpose  of  flinging  him  to  the  ground  before 
he  should  be  prepared  for  the  attack.  He  did  suc- 
ceed in  lifting  the  young  champion  fairly  from  his 
feet,  which  showed  that  he  possessed  great  strength, 
but  he  missed  his  calculation  when  he  thought  to 


w 


BOB 


290 


T//E    YOUNG    GUNBEARER. 


outdo  the  young  McNiel.  The  moment  the  latter's 
feet  touched  the  ground  again,  understanding  now 
the  trick  of  the  other,  he  stooped  slightly,  cauf '  * 
him  in  such  a  manner  as  to  bring  him  midway  upon 
his  left  hip,  and,  swinging  hia  body  half-way  around, 
fairly  lifted  him  up  and  then  dropped  him  upon  the 
earth  with  a  force  that  made  him  quiver  from  head 
to  feet. 

A  prolonged  cheer  rang  from  the  spectators  at  this 
summ-'.ry  treatment  of  the  boaster,  which  filled  his 
ears  as  he  staggered  to  his  feet.  Maddened  by 
this  as  much  as  at  his  defeat,  the  bully  renewed  his 
attack  on  Norman,  who  was  better  prepared  to  meet 
him  this  time.  Bending  forward  slightly,  he  seemed, 
to  the  excited  spectators,  to  catch  the  stranger  upon 
his  shoulders,  though  it  all  took  place  so  quickly  that 
no  one  saw  clearly  just  how  it  was  done.  At  any 
rate,  when  Norman  straightened  his  tall,  powerful 
form,  the  other  was  lifted  upward,  his  long  legs  were 
flying  in  the  air  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  was  flung 
into  the  sand  with  a  force  which  caused  him  to 
remain  motionless,  while  the  exultant  shouts  of  the 
onlookers  rang  far  and  wide  up  and  down  the  valle^' 
of  the  Merrimack.  One  and  all  were  quick  to  de- 
clare it  the  handsomest  feat  done  in  that  vicinity  for 
many  a  day. 

The  crestfallen  stranger  finally  rose  sadly,  slowly 
to  his  feet,  which  act  was  a  signal  for  renewed  cheer- 


v'    4- 


THE    GUNBEARERS   OF  SIIVER   RIVER.       29 1 

ing,  mingled  with  cutting  sarcasm  for  the  defeated 
wrestler.  Without  replying,  except  by  dark  scowls 
and  muttered  exclamations,  the  disappointed  man 
seized  the  rein  of  his  horse,  sprang  into  the  saddle, 
and  amid  the  jeers  of  the  spectators  rode  away,  his 
identity  unknown  to  this  day. 

"  T  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  Rob,"  declared 
Norman,  without  showing  any  discomfiture  over  his 
recent  struggle. 

"  If  Master  Rogers  will  pardon  me,"  said  Rilma 
MacDonald,  "I  will  crown  the  hero  first,  and  now 
that  he  has  won  this  last  victory  his  honour  is  all  the 
more  deserving." 

Rob  bowed  consent,  and  amid  a  hushed  scene  the 
fair  maid  placed  on  the  head  of  the  victor  the  wreath 
of  honour,  which  act  was  the  signal  for  a  round  of 
cheers,  following  which  the  entire  crowd  joined 
hands,  Rob  and  the  Woodranger  alone  excepted, 
and  danced  around  the  central  figures  of  this  happy 
occasioii. 

"Let  hearts  be  merry  while  they  may,"  declared 
the  Woodranger,  "  all  too  soon  will  another  cry  wake 
the  valley,  and  then  there'll  be  time  enough  for  the 
weeping  that  follows  the  laughter  and  the  silence 
that  follows  the  war-whoop  o'  the  painted  heathen. 
I  wish  we'd  waited  another  day  afore  we  brought 
this  message  o'  war,  I  swan  I  do,  lad." 

The  leaders  of  the  throng,  knowing  that  something 


292 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


of  importance  was  about  to  be  imparted,  the  merry- 
making soon  subsided,  and  a  graver  aspeCw  came  over 
th:  scene.     The  little  episode  with  the  stranger  was 
forgotten,  as  Norman  McNiel  and  others  gathered 
about  Rob  Rogers  and  the  Woodranger.     The  last 
moved  silently  apart  from  the  midst  of  the  crowd, 
standing  with  his  bearded  chin  resting  on  the  muzzle 
of   his  gun,   while   his  whole  being  seemed   to   be 
absorbed  in  meditation,  apparently  lost  to  the  keen 
sense  of  excitement  reigning  about  him.     Rob  was 
doing  the   talking,   except   for   the  exclamations   of 
deep  feeling  and  of  assent  to  what  he  was  saying. 
"The  French  will  never  give  us  rest   until  this 
quarrel  between  her  and   Gieat    Britain   has   been 
settled,"  he  declared.     "  And  so  long  as  there  is  an 
Indian  on  the  borders  of  New  Eng.and  ready  to  listen 
to  the  promises  of  the  French,  so  long  must  New 
England  suffer  at  their  hands.    We  must  strike  theni 
as  we  would  a  rattlesnake.     We  shall  never  have  a 
better  opportunity  to  deal  our  first  blow  than  by 
taking  Louisburg.      Not  many  of  you  may  know  of 
the  importance  of  this  post,  and  therefore  will  hesi- 
tate about  joining  Captain  Vaughan  in  this  expedition, 
but  as  for  me,  I  start  to-morrow !  " 

A  faint  cheer  greeted  the  boy  ranger  at  this  fear- 
less declaration,  which  meant  far  more  than  any  of 
them  dreamed.     In  a  moment  he  continued  : 

"  Down  in  Acadia  there  are  two  classes  of  people 


the  merry- 
came  over 
anger  was 
;  gathered 

The  last 
:he  crowd, 
the  muzzle 
led  to  be 
3  the  keen 

Rob  was 
mations  of 
vas  saying. 

untii  this 

has  been 
there  is  an 
dy  to  listen 
must  New 
strike  them 
;ver  have  a 
iw  than  by 
ay  know  of 
e  will  hesi- 
expedition, 

It  this  fear- 

;han  any  of 

ed: 

is  of  people 


iiiWMiiyMliiri^Jiiii 


fliv 


T//£    GUNBEARERS   OF  SILVER   RIVER.       293 

in  whose  hands  rests  the  welfare  of  that  fair  country. 
One  of  them  is  the  Neutral ;  the  other  the  Gunbearer. 
Which  is  the  greater  enemy  to  us  I  cannot  tell  you, 
but,  when  a  French  officer  at  the  head  of  his  squad 
demanded  which  I  was,  I  told  him  to  his  teeth  that 
I  was  a  Gunbearer.  Boys,  I  am  not  going  to  eat 
those  words !  Who  among  you  will  go  with  me  to 
Louisbu/g .'" 

"On  the  day  of  the  shooting  match,'  when  we 
placed  our  bullets  together  in  the  bull's-eye  of  the 
stave,"  spoke  up  Norman  McNiel,  gently  breaking 
from  the  restraining  hold  of  Rilma,  "I  told  you  I 
should  be  glad  to  go  with  you  when  it  came  to  trail- 
ing the  red  enemy.  ^1  the  time  has  come,  Rob,  I  am 
ready  to  keep  my  promise." 

"I  knew  you  were  true,  Norman.  The  time  has 
come.  I  told  the  Frenchman  I  was  a  Gunbearer, 
though  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  him  for 
whom  I  bore  that  gun.  Now  I  am  going  down  to 
Louisburg  to  show  him  just  what  I  msant.  As  long 
as  I  have  the  power  to  draw  bead,  and  there  is  an 
enemy  left,  I  shall  help  defend  the  homes  of  New 
England." 

"Ay,"  responded  Norman,  clasping  his  hand,  "and 
I  will  stand  beside  you." 

He  would  have  said  more,  but  his  speech  was 
drowned  by  the  lusty  cheer  of  the  brave  hearts 
•  See  "  The  Woodranger." 


Jl 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


presc.  '  As  this  subsided,  a  young  man  of  nearly 
the  same  height  as  Norman  stepped  forth  from  the 
throng  and  joined  the  twain. 

"  Three  cheers  for  the  volunteers  !  "  exclaimed  one 
of  the  spectators,  and  the  others  repeated  the  cry 
until  it  rang  up  and  down  the  valley. 

At  this  juncture  Rilma  caught  up  the  evergreen 
which  '  '1  been  left  in  fashioning  the  crown  for 
Norman,  and,  beginning  to  weave  it  into  shape  with 
deft  fingers,  said : 

"There  is  more  than  one  hero  here  to-day,  and 
every  one  vho  declares  himself  a  defender  of  our 
homes  and  the  homes  of  Acadia  shall  wear  a  wreath." 

Again  a  cheer  rang  out,  and  it  had  barely  finished 
before  Rilma  had  placed  on  the  head  of  Rob  a 
wreath  similiar  to  that  worn  by  his  companion. 
Other  fair  maidens  now  came  to  her  assistance,  and 
in  a  brief  time  four  more  wreaths  were  made,  and 
one  of  them  was  then  placed  on  the  head  of  the 
other  volunteer. 

«'  Come,  Woodranger ! "  said  Rilma,  looking  more 
beautiful  than  ever  in  her  excitement,  "  I  know  with- 
out asking  that  you  are  going  with  the  boys.  Let 
me  crown  you  as  their  noble  chief." 

He  started  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  as  if  suddenly 
awakened  from  a  sleep.  Then,  glancing  timidly  over 
the  crowd,  without  looking  toward  her,  replied : 

"  Forgive  the  ol'  man  if  he  failed  to  ketch  ihe 


THE   GUNBEARERS  OF  SILVER  RIVER.       295 


3f  nearly 
from  the 

imed  one 
I  the  cry 

ivergreen 
rown  for 
lape  with 

•day,  and 
:r  of  our 
wreath." 
\/  finished 
f  Rob  a 
impanion. 
ance,  and 
nade,  and 
,d  of  the 

ing  more 
now  with- 
)ys.     Let 

suddenly 
lidly  over 
ied : 
cetch  ihe 


sense  o'  your  pretty  speech.  That  he'll  ne'er  desert 
the  lads  I  do  not  think  that  I  previcate  the  truth  in 
saying,  but  a§  a  simple  companion,  —  as  a  father 
might  hi.^  sons.,  —  but  ne'er  as  their  chief.  If  there 
be  need  o'  a  chief,  which  I  have  ne'er  the  discretion 
to  say,  let  it  be  Rob.  There  be  wisdom  in  his  head 
'yon' His  years,  and  strength  in  his  limbs  that  the 
years  rob  an  ol'  man  of." 

Those  who  were  standing  near  wondered  at  the 
forester's  emotion,  and  there  were  those  present  who 
claimed  that  the  tears  were  coursing  down  his 
bearded  cheeks.  Be  that  as  it  may  he  began  to  move 
silently  away  from  the  spot,  and  a  minute  later  dis- 
appeared down  the  bank  of  the  river.  His  abrupt 
departure  was  scarcely  noticed  in  the  drariatic  scene 
being  enacted  near  the  centre  of  the  group  of  spec- 
tators, where  Rilma  stood,  like  a  fairy  queen,  bestow- 
ing her  favours  on  the  gallant  youths  who  were  so 
ready  to  follow  their  duty  in  the  scenes  of  warfare. 

"  I  agree  to  what  Woodranger  has  said,  and  name 
Robert  Rogers  as  chief  of  the  Gunbearers  of  —  of 
—  of  Silver  River,  our  own  fair  Merrimack  which 
pleased  the  red  men  so !  Who  will  wear  next  the 
wreath  of  the  Gunbearers  of  Silver  River .' " 

"  I  will,  if  you  please,  Rilma,"  said  a  comely  youth 
of  two  or  three  and  twenty,  stepping  modestly  from 
out  of  the  crowd,  his  countenance  suffused  with 
blushes,  for,  brave  at  heart  as  he  was,  he  was  timid  in 


6,( 


296 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEAKER. 


the  presence  of  her  he  loved.  She  showed  some 
slight  embarrassment  at  first,  but  quickly  recovered 
her  self-control,  saying,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  I  was  afraid,  Edward,  you  would  not  come  for- 
ward." 

"  I  am  not  a  coward,  dearest,"  he  replied,  in  the 
same  low  tone,  "  and  I  thought  only  of  the  separation 
from  you." 

This  short  dialogue,  carried  on  in  an  undertone, 
was  swallowL-d  up  by  the  cheering,  which  seemed 
contagious  on  that  occasion.  Immediately  following 
Edward  Hyland  came  three  more  to  wear  the  wreath, 
all  from  a  neighbouring  township  called  Londonderry, 
and  by  names  Adam  Gault,  Robert  Kennedy,  and 
Andrew  Logan.  He  who  was  already  noted  as  a 
woodsman,  and  who  was  to  become  more  famous  as  a 
leader  of  the  scouts  of  the  frontier,  John  GofFe,  next 
came  forward  amid  the  cheering  of  the  spectators. 

"There  are  two  wreaths  more,"  said  the  forest 
queen.    "  Who  will  wear  them  >  " 

"  I  wish  I  was  big  enough,"  exclaimed  a  boyish 
voice  at  her  elbow.  Turning  about,  she  discovered 
by  her  side  a  well-known  boy  by  the  name  of  John 
Stark,  who  was  to  become  more  noted  than  any  of 
the  others  in  the  Indian  wars  to  follow,  and  in  the 
war  for  independence. 

"You  shall  have  one,  Johnny,"  replied  Rilma, 
"  even  if  you  cannot  go,  for  I  know  you  will  do  your 


duty  by  and  by,"  placing  a  wreath  on  his  head  as 
she  spoke,  little  dreaming  then  how  well  her  proph- 
ecy was  to  be  fulfilled  within  a  few  years. 

'  I  will  wear  the  other  one,  if  you  please,  my  fairy 
queen,"  said  a  mellow  voice  from  the  outskirt  of  the 
crowd,  and  immediately  a  tall,  handsome  young  man 
of  thirty  pushed  his  way  forward  through  the  throng 
of  people.  "  I  do  not  see  how  any  of  you  young  men 
can  stand  idle  here  at  the  pleading  of  so  fair  a 
sponsor." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  will  go  to  Louisburg, 
Doctor  Thornton  ?"  '  asked  Rilma,  who  for  the  first 
time  showed  hesitation. 

"  Methinks  a  man  must  be  a  weakling  who  would 
not  go  into  the  very  fire  of  death  crowned  by  so  fair 
a  goddess,"  he  replied,  gallantly,  as  she  laid  the  last 
wreath  with  trembling  hands  on  the  brown  curls  of 
the  uncovered  head  of  the  noblest  patriot  in  that 
band  of  brave  sons  of  the  frontier,  while  renewed 
cheering  made  the  welkin  ring. 

Under  the  exciting  spirit  of  the  changed  situation, 
which  had  seemed  to  transform  the  festival  into  a 
council  of  war,  the  members  of  the  assembly  soon 
began  to  seek  their  homes,  though  it  would  be  many 
days  —  ay,  years  —  before  they  would  cease  to  dis- 
cuss the  ominous  turn  in  the  affairs  of  the  colonists. 

'  Matthew  Thoniton,  who  was  afterward  one  of  the  signers  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence. 


-^- 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


THE    HERO   OF    LOUISBURG. 


As  they  had  heard  nothing  from  the  fugitive 
Briants,  both  Rob  and  the  Woodranger  were  anxious 
to  start  for  Breton,  in  the  hope  that  they  might  learn 
something  of  the  unfortunate  family.  This  was 
partly  their  reason  for  starting  on  foot  at  once  for 
Portsmouth,  from  which  port  they  expected  to  find 
passage  by  vessel  to  their  destination.  So  that 
couple,  accompanied  by  Norman  McNicl  and  Ed- 
ward Hyland,  started  within  a  few  days,  while  their 
companions  promised  to  follow  them  as  soon  as  they 
should  be  needed. 

Upon  reaching  Portsmouth,  our  four  met  Captain 
Vaughan,  who  was  very  much  pleased  with  the  en- 
couraging news  they  brought,  and  afforded  them 
great  satisfaction  by  announcing  thai,  a  ship  was 
then  in  the  harbour,  which  would  take  them  to  Can- 
seau  without  delay.  On  the  day  set  for  sailing, 
however,  it  was  decided  best  by  the  owners  to 
abandon  the  voyage  until  the  Louisburg  affair  had 
been  settled. 

298 


fugitive 

e  anxious 

ght  learn 

rhis   was 

once  for 

d  to  find 

So   that 

and   Ed- 

'hile  their 

m  as  they 

t  Captain 
h  the  en- 
ied  them 
ship  was 
n  to  Can- 
r  saihng, 
wners  to 
iffair  had 


THE  HERO   OF  LOUISBURG. 


299 


The  disappointment  was  felt  by  our  party  very 
keenly,  but  the  excitement  of  the  proposed  expedi- 
tion was  now  becoming  intense,  and  a  departure  ex- 
pected at  an  early  date.  Though  this  did  not  come 
as  soon  as  had  been  hoped  by  some,  the  day  for  sail- 
ing came  at  last,  when  the  armed  sloop,  convoying 
the  transports,  led  the  way  gaily  down  the  harbour 
to  the  strains  of  music  more  sacred  than  martial.  So 
impatient  were  the  New  Hampshire  men,  numbering 
about  five  hundred  men,  u.at  they  would  not  brook 
the  delay  necessary  to  join  the  Massachusetts  vol- 
unteers at  Boston,  as  Governor  Shirley  originally 
planned,  but  actually  sailed  two  days  ahead  of  the 
others,  with  the  agreement  to  meet  them  at  Canseau. 

The  Gunbearers  of  Silver  River,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Dr.  Matthew  Thornton,  who  went  as  surgeon, 
were  placed  under  the  command  of  Captain  Thomas 
Waldron,  a  descendant  of  the  famous  Major  Waldron 
who  had  been  slain  in  the  Dover  massacre  in  1689. 
Colonel  Samuel  Moore  was  in  command  of  the  regi- 
ment, while  Nathan  Meserve  was  lieutenant-colonel. 
The  little  war-fleet  sailed  from  Portsmouth,  March 
23.  1745.  or.  by  the  new  reckoning,  on  April  4. 

As  has  been  remarked,  a  strong  religious  feeling 
moved  the  colonists  in  their  attack  up'^n  the  French 
stronghold,  which  its  builders  had  aptly  styled  the 
"Dunkirk  of  America,"  and  nowhere  did  that  expe- 
dition partake  more  of  the   character  of  a  crusade 


If 


l{ 


^Vi 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBRARER. 

than  with  this  body  of  troops  fr(,  'i  New  Hampshire. 
A  few  days  previous  to  its  dLnarture,  a  large 
meeting  was  held  at  an  old  garrison  on  the  River 
Piscataqua,  when  Captain  Waldron's  cotnpany  was 
presented  with  a  new  banner  made  by  the  women 
of  New  Hampshire,  and  inscribed  with  the  motto : 

"  Nil  Dtsptrandum,  Ckristo  Duet." 

This  meant,  in  plain  English,  "  Despair  of  nothing, 
Christ  being  our  leader."  The  Rev.  George  White- 
field,  then  the  foremost  preacher  in  New  England, 
had  suggested  this  inscription,  and  blessed  the  flag 
and  the  expedition.  Edward  Hyland  was  unan- 
imously choseii  as  colour-ben  rcr,  and  you  may  be 
assured  he  accepted  the  honour  with  pardonable 
pride,  determined  that  it  should  be  borne  faithfully 
as  long  as  it  was  in  his  hands. 

The  voyage  to  Canseau,  though  made  at  a  critical 
season,  was  performed  without  mishap,  but  the  New 
Hampshire  force  had  to  remain  idle  two  days  before 
the  arrival  of  the  Massachusetts  contingent,  consist- 
ing 01  a  fleet  of  forty-one  vessels  and  three  thousand 
men. 

During  the  stop  at  Canseau  the  little  fleet  was 
visited  by  a  New  England  man  stopping  on  this 
coast.  That  is,  it  should  be  said  that  this  man's 
visit  was  involuntary,  as  he  was  picked  up  half  a 
mile  from  the  shore,  clinging  to  a  log  on  which  he 


s'sSKsasfo&i*.' 


?:\ 


THE  HERO  OF  LOUISHURG. 


301 


lampshire. 
e,  a  large 
the  River 
npany  was 
the  women 
le  motto : 


■  of  nothing, 
jrge  White- 
w  England, 
sed  the  flag 

was  unan- 
rou  may  be 

pardonable 
tie  faithfully 

at  a  critical 
)Ut  the  New 

days  before 
2;ent,  consist- 
ree  thousand 

tie  fleet  was 
ping  on  this 
it  this  man's 
ed  up  half  a 
on  which  he 


had  drifted  away  from  the  land  in  an  escape  from  a 
party  of  Indians.  Though  he  bore  unpleasant  tid- 
ings, he  was  gladly  met  by  the  Woodranger  and 
Rob,  who  inquired  if  ho  had  ever  seen  or  heard 
of  Wallace  Briant  and  his  family,  whom  they  had 
parted  with  as  they  were  on  thei;  way  to  the  vicinity 
of  this  man's  home.  He  had  met  them,  and  reported 
that  Briant  had  so  far  recovered  from  his  wounds  as 
to  start  to  return  to  Grand  Prd,  But  he  had  made  a 
mistake  in  doing  that,  as  he  was  soon  overtaken  and 
captured  by  a  party  of  French  and  Indians,  led  by 
the  Dark  Abb(^.  He  and  his  family  had  been  taken 
to  Quebec  as  prisoners,  where  this  man  believed 
they  were  at  that  time,  if  their  lives  had  been 
spared.  The  Woodranger  was  greatly  affected  by 
this  intelligence,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  Rob  and  the 
others,  would  have  left  the  expedition  to  Louisburg 
then  and  there. 

It  does  not  come  within  the  scope  of  our  tale  to 
narrate  the  particulars  of  the  siege  of  Louisburg, 
except  for  the  account  of  an  incident  connected  with 
it,  which  afforded  a  pathetic  interest  to  our  little 
band  of  Gunbearers  of  Silver  River.  Governor 
Shirley  had  prepared  a  ver}'  »rinute  plan  of  action, 
even  going  so  far  as  to  appoirit  the  hour  when  the 
vessels  should  meet  to  make  a  combined  attack  on 
the  fortress.  But  he  had  failed  to  take  into  account 
the  uncertainty  of  the  weather  at  that  season  of  the 


''y 


THE    YOUNG  GUNbEARER. 

year,  and  the  dangers  environing  the  coast  of  Cape 
Breton.  The  fleet  was  obliged  to  wait  at  Canseau 
three  weeks  before  the  ice  was  sufficiently  cleared 
for  it  to  proceed.  This  delay  enabled  a  new  com- 
mander to  appear  upon  the  scene.  He  was  Admiral 
Warren,  of  the  British  fleet  at  West  India,  who  had 
dechned  to  act  under  the  request  of  Governor  Shir- 
ley, but  who  had  later  received  orders  from  England 
to  proceed  with  the  New  England  force.  He  held  a 
consultation  with  General  Pepperell,  and  soon  after 
the  advance  toward  Louisburg  v/as  resumed. 

Though  so  long  delayed  on  their  way,  the  French 
were  not  aware  of  the  coming  of  the  fleet  and  army 
until  the  transports  appeared  off  Chaparouge  Bay. 
Thus  the  New  England  troops  effected  a  landing 
without  any  stubborn  resistance  from  the  enemy ; 
who  retreated  to  the  fortified  town,  burning  all  of 
the  outstanding  houses  for  fear  they  might  serve  as 
cover  for  the  English.  They  also  sunk  some  vessels 
in  the  harbour,  expecting  to  hinder  the  entrance  of 
the  fleet.  It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  the 
fortifications  consisted  of  stone  ramparts,  from  thirty 
to  forty  feet  in  height,  and  that  the  whole  were  sur- 
rounded by  a  wide  ditch  of  eighty  feet,  except  for  an 
opening  of  two  hundred  yards  in  width  near  the  sea, 
which  place  of  entrance  and  exit  was  guarded  by  a 
line  of  pickets.  The  entrance  to  the  harbour  was 
overlooked  by  a  battery  of  thirty  cannons  planted  on 


■*-^ 


'^fss^}^4m3^^^^iMSt^: 


-„.i...,y,.,,.ya^y 


■&^, 


;oast  of  Cape 
t  at  Canseau 
ently  cleared 
a  new  corn- 
was  Admiral 
ndia,  who  had 
overnor  Shir- 
from  England 
;.  He  held  a 
ad  soon  after 
imed. 

y,  the  French 
3eet  and  army 
iparouge  Bay. 
:ted  a  landing 
1  the  enemy; 
burning  all  of 
might  serve  as 
k  some  vessels 
le  entrance  of 
ioned  that  the 
•ts,  from  t'^irty 
vhole  were  sur- 
;,  except  for  an 
h  near  the  sea, 
J  guarded  by  a 
e  harbour  was 
)ons  planted  on 


rir£  HERO   OF  LOUISBURG. 


303 


a  small  island,  and  a  grand  or  royal  battery  of  twenty- 
eight   cannons,   42-pounders   and   two    i8-pounders, 
defended  the  lower  end  of  the  harbour.     A  promi- 
nent object  by  day,  whose  red  eye  at  night  looked 
ominously   out   over   the    waters,   was  a  lighthouse 
standing  on  a  high  cliff  nearly  opposite  the  battery 
on  the  island.     The  main  foi  cress  of   the  powerful 
military  and  naval  station  had  six  bastions  and  eight 
batteries,    with    embi  isures   for    one    hundred   and 
forty-eight    cannons,    but    only   about    one-third   of 
these  were  mounted.     Without  displaying   its   real 
strength  from  within,  this  stronghold  presented  an 
outward    appearance    that   would   have   seemed   to 
daunt  even  the  bold  spirits  bent  upon  its  destruction. 
After  a  brief  consultation  between  the  leaders  of 
the  combined  sea  and  land  forces,  it  was  decided  to 
attempt  an  entrance  into  the  town  by  the  west  gate, 
over  a  drawbridge   protected  by  a  circular  battery 
mounting  sixteen  guns  of  14-pound  shot.     The  com- 
mand of  this  body  of  soldiers  was  entrusted  to  Capt. 
William  Vaughan,  who  had  refused  a  r.gular  com- 
mission, but  who  was  induced  to  act  under  the  rank 
and  pay  of  a  lieutenant-colonel.     He  chose  for  his 
followers  in   this    hazardous   undertaking  a  detach- 
ment of  New  Hampshire  troops,  among  whom  were 
the  Gunbearers  of  Silver  River. 

Effectmg  a  landing  as  speedily  as  possible,  Colonel 
Vaughan  led  his  resolute  men  through  a  narrow  belt 


M 


^^ 


^^m 


304 


T//E    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


of  woods  within  sight  of  the  city,  he  and  his  followers 
giving  expression  to  three  rousing  cheers  as  they 
marched  on.  Reaching  the  northeast  quarter  of  the 
harbour  by  night,  the  troops  captured  some  ware- 
houses containing  naval  stores,  setting  fire  to  the 
buildings.  The  wind  drove  the  smoke  into  ^he 
grand  battery  in  such  volumes  that  the  French  be- 
came alarmed,  believing  that  it  was  all  over  with 
them,  and,  spiking  the  guns  and  cuttin.;  th.  i  ^1- 
yards  from  the  flag-staff,  retreated  to  the  cii^.  A 
deep  silence  then  fell  upon  the  scene,  lasting  until 
morning. 

Making  a  tour  of  inspection  as  soon  as  it  was 
daylight,  Colonel  Vaughan,  accompanied  by  a  squad 
of  thirteen  men,  crept  up  the  hill  overlooking  the 
battery,  until  they  discovered  the  true  situation  of 
the  deserted  works.  The  smokeless  chimneys  of 
the  barracks,  and  the  staff  minus  its  flag,  quickly 
caught  the  attention  of  the  little  band,  whose  leader 
said : 

"  How  easy  we  might  capture  the  battery  if  an 
entrance  could  be  effected  without  too  much  delay 
or  exposure." 

"  Me  do  it,"  spoke  up  an  Indian  from  one  of  the 
MassachuFCtts  tribes,  who  was  among  tl^e  scouts. 

"Then  go  ahead,"  declared  Colonel  Vaughan, 
without  stopping  to  ask  how.  The  red  man  instantly 
began  to  crawl  cautiously  forward  toward  the  works. 


IS  followers 
irs  as  they 
irter  of  the 
some  ware- 
fire  to  the 
e  into  aie 
French  be- 
over  with 
r...,  th,  -1- 
ic  cii)'.  A 
asting  until 

1  as  it  was 
1)/  a  squad 
rlooking  the 
situation  of 
;himneys  of 
flag,  quickly 
whose  leader 

aattery  if  an 
much  delay 

n  one  of  the 
le  scouts, 
lel   Vaughan, 
man  instantly 
rd  the  works. 


THE  HERO  OF  LOUISBURG. 


.^05 


"Now's  me,"  declared  the  Woodranger,  "the  red 
do  show  an  amazing  lack  o'  discretion  not  common 
with  his  race.  There  may  be  an  ambushment  ahint 
'em  guns.     The  French  are  deceitful." 

"  But  see !  the  fellow  is  crawling  toward  one  of 
the  embrasures,"  said  Rob  Rogers,  who  lay  beside 
the  forester,  and  was  watching  as  earnestly  as  his 
companions  the  movements  of  the  daring  Indian. 
The  latter  was  seen  to  reach  me  of  the  embrasures, 
and  a  moment  later  he  had  disappeared  inside  the 
battery.  Fortunately,  the  place  was  entirely  de- 
serted, and,  opening  the  gate  for  his  companions. 
Colonel  Vaughan  and  his  little  squad  stood  inside 
the  works  within  half  an  hour,  having  captured  the 
place  without  bloodshed.  In  his  exultation  Colonel 
Vaughan  then  sent  the  following  message  by  the 
trusty  Indian  to  General  Pepperell : 

"  May  it  please  your  Honour  to  be  informed  that, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  courage  of  thirteen 
men,  £  entered  the  royal  battery  about  nine  o'clock, 
and  am  waiting  for  a  reinforcement  and  a  flag." 

"  What  a  pity  so  good  a  staff  should  be  without 
its  colours,  and  we  without  aught  to  show  of  our 
victory,"  said  Rob  Rogers,  his  young,  enthusiastic 
heart  fired  with  the  spirit  of  the  conquest.  "  Here, 
Dunham,  your  coat  with  its  red  lining  is  just  what 
we  want.  Lend  it  to  me,"  and  himself  taking  it 
from  the  shoulders  of  his  companion,  the  adventur- 


f 


■%i 


flHi 


306 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


ous  young  Gunbearer  climbed  the  staff,  hand  over 
hand,  and  a  minute  later  he  had  nailed  the  im- 
promptu colours  to  its  top,  amid  the  cheers  of  his 
companions. 

But  this  daring  act  so  aroused  the  French  that  a 
hundred  men  were  immediately  sent  from  the  city  to 
dislodge  the  bold  besiegers.  This  party  could  reach 
the  place  only  by  boat,  and,  knowing  that  it  would 
not  do  to  allow  the  enemy  to  effect  a  landing,  Colo- 
nel Vaughan  quickly  led  his  handful  of  gallant 
followers  to  the  beach,  where  they  prevented  the 
French  from  reaching  the  land,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  they  were  exposed  to  constant  fire  fron^ 
the  city.  In  the  midst  of  the  sanguine  fight,  when 
it  began  to  look  as  if  the  doughty  little  band  was 
having  mor'»  than  its  match,  reinforcements  arrived 
on  the  scene,  and  the  French  were  obliged  to  give 
up.  A  few  minutes  later  the  flag  of  the  New  Eng- 
land forces  was  flying  from  the  staff,  proclaiming  the 
victory  of  the  gallant  thirteen  under  the  intrepid 
projector  of  the  siege. 

This  took  place  on  May  2d,  and,  encouraged  by 
this  success,  the  English  drilled  out  the  guns  which 
had  been  spiked  by  the  enemy  before  their  desertion 
of  the  place,  and  t^ese  weapons,  mostly  42-pounders, 
were  turned  upon  the  city  with  good  effect,  several 
of  the  shots  falling  within  the  citadel.  Ducham- 
bon  refusing  to  surrender,  the  besiegers  decided  to 


THE  HERO   OF  LOUISBURG. 


307 


hand  over 
i  the  im- 
ers  of  his 

nch  that  a 
the  city  to 
ould  reach 
.t  it  would 
ding,  Colo- 
of    gallant 
vented  the 
anding  the 
[   fire  fron\ 
fight,  when 
;  band  was 
;nts  arrived 
ged  to  give 
;  New  Eng- 
:laiming  the 
:he  intrepid 

;ouraged  by 
guns  which 
eir  desertion 
42-pounders, 
ffect,  several 
1.  Ducham- 
s  decided  to 


strengthen  the  position  of  the  land  forces.  Five 
fascine  batteries  were  erected,  mounted  with  sixteen 
pieces  of  cannon  and  several  mortars.  By  means  of 
these  the  western  gate  was  destroyed,  and  consider- 
able impression  made  on  the  circular  battery. 

All  this,  done  within  sight  of  the  enemy,  had  not 
been  accomplished  without  hard  and  drngerous  work. 
For  fourteen  successive  nights  the  troops  were  em- 
ployed in  dragging  cannon  from  the  landing  through 
a  morass,  where  an  ox  could  not  go.  This  had  to  be 
done  on  sledges,  by  the  men  with  straps  on  their 
shoulders  and  sinking  to  their  knees  in  the  mud. 
Bareheaded,  barefooted,  their  clothes  in  tatters,  and 
poorly  fed,  the  plucky  troops  toiled  on  night  after 
night,  until  they  had  accorrolishe-'  their  purpose, 
and  then  stood  ready  to  undertake  the  most 
hazardous  and  disastrous  part  of  the  long  and 
laborious  siege. 

An  order  was  issued  to  attack  the  island  battery, 
and  four  hundre^^  volunteers  from  different  regiments 
were  selected  for  the  hazardous  undertaking.  A 
large  share  of  this  force  was  maue  up  of  New 
Hampshire  men,  and  among  these  were  five  of  the 
Gunbearers  of  Silver  River  :  their  young  chief,  Rob- 
ert Rogers,  the  Woodranger,  John  Goffe,  Norman 
McNiel,  and,  last  but  not  least,  the  brave  young  en- 
sign, Edward  Hyland.  Of  them  all,  the  Woodranger 
had  alone  shown  hesitation  in  undertaking  this  part 


t 


3o8 


THE    YOUNG    GUNBEARER. 


of  the  siege.  It  was  not  his  nature  to  fall  in  line 
easily  as  a  soldier  under  command,  but  rr.ther  to  fol- 
low the  bent  of  his  own  inclination.  He  had  been 
valuable  as  a  scout,  and  no  man  was  more  respected 
than  he.  With  Rob  he  had  seen  the  island  battery 
as  no  other  man  had,  and  noted  the  strong  position 
of  the  French  force  entrenched  within. 

"It  may  br  the  natural  o'erdiscretion  o'  an  ol' 
man  who  sees  but  the  weakness  o'  his  own  arms  and 
the  strength  o'  his  inemy's.  Now's  me,  I  fear  this 
move  will  prove  a  wanton  waste  o'  human  life.  The 
ambushment  o'  the  French  be  well  laid,  and  they  hoi' 
us  at  their  marcy." 

»  Tut tut,    Woodranger !  "    exclaimed    Edward 

Hyland,  in  a  merry  tone.  "  I  am  going  to  plant  this 
flag  inside  those  works  before  we  are  done,  or  it 
shall  be  my  shroud." 

"The  lad  be  true  grit,"  said  the  forester,  looking 
in  the  opposite  direction  and  out  over  the  water 
where  lay  the  ships  of  Admiral  Warren.  Before 
any  reply  could  be  made,  the  command  to  advance, 
was  passed  along  the  line,  and  the  first  charge  was 
made.  It  was  like  rushing  into  a  storm  of  leaden 
hail,  and  the  brave  volunteers  were  obliged  to  retreat. 
But  the  column  was  formed  for  a  second  attack  with- 
out loss  of  time,  and  again  it  dashed  against  the 
works  of  the  enemy  with  a  courage  that  nothing 
could  daunt. 


,11  in  line 
ler  to  fol- 
had  been 
respected 
id  battery 
g  position 

o'  an  ol' 

arms  and 

[  fear  this 

life.     The 

i  they  hoi' 

1  Edward 
plant  this 
lone,  or  it 

er,  looking 
the  water 
1.  Before 
:o  advance. 
;harge  was 
of  leaden 
to  retreat, 
ttack  with- 
gainst  the 
at  nothing 


THE  HERO   OF  LOUISBURG. 


309 


For  the  second  time  the  brave  men  from  New 
England  were  repulsed,  but  not  disheartened.  Their 
leader  again  rallied  them,  and  not  only  for  the  third, 
but  for  the  fourth  time,  did  they  charge  upon  the 
enemy,  to  meet  with  the  Licvitable  defeat,  though 
falling  back  in  remarkably  good  order.  Even  the 
intrepid  Vaughan  hesitated  before  attempting  what 
he  began  to  see  was  well-nigh  impossible  to  accom- 
plish, when  the  youthful  bearer  of  the  regiment's 
colours  sprang  forward,  and  shaking  the  flag,  already 
riddled  with  bullets,  high  over  his  head,  shouted : 

"  Who  falters  now .'  Dare  to  follow  the  old  flag, 
and  the  victory  is  ours  !  " 

Every  volunteer  instantly  caught  the  spirit  of  the 
brave  speaker,  and  the  sight  of  his  heroic  dash  to 
the  front  and  the  banner  that  seemed  to  urge  them 
on  to  victory  fired  the  overtried  troops  with  new 
zeal.  As  the  gallant  ensign  leaped  forward,  the  tall 
figure  of  the  Wood  ranger  was  seen  to  leave  the  ranks 
and  advance  close  beside  him.  Equal  to  any  emer- 
gency, the  indomitable  Vaughan  shouted  the  order : 

"  Forward  —  charge !  Let  every  man  do  his  duty, 
and  the  battery  must  fall." 

Nothing  like  that  desperate  charge  was  seen  in  all 
that  forty-nine  days  of  nghting  before  Louisburg. 
The  French  seemed  to  have  reserved  their  leaden 
hail  for  the  brave  volunteers  who  sprang  forward  in 
the  path  of  the  inspired  colour-bearer.     They  had 


\  11 


m 


3i'J 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBtlARER. 


not  crossed  half  of  the  open  space  lying  between 
them  and  the  works  of  the  enemy  before  the  front 
ranks  were  thinned  to  an  alarming  extent.  Still  the 
stentorian  tone  of  their  leader  urged  them  on,  and 
still  the  flag  of  the  Gunbearers  waved  in  the  air,  the 
life  of  its  ensign  spared  as  if  by  a  miracle. 

The  first  fire  of  the  French  spent,  and  the  riven 
ranks  of  the  besiegers  filled  by  those  in  the  rear,  it 
looked  for  a  time  as  if  the  raw  recruits,  fighting 
against  such  terrible  odds,  were  bound  to  win.  But 
the  entrenched  forces  had  been  so  judiciously  forti- 
fied that,  though  they  did  not  equal  in  number  the 
others,  all  of  the  conditions  were  in  their  favour. 
Without  looking  back  to  see  the  awful  rout  being 
made  behind  him,  Edward  Hyland  shook  aloft  his 
flag  and  shouted  a  defiance  to  the  enemy  just  as 
another  volley  of  bullets  whistled  about  him.  With 
the  cry  unfinished,  he  sank  upon  the  ground,  the  flag 
falling  over  his  bleeding  form. 

The  Woodranger  was  still  beside  him,  his  gun 
smoking  from  its  latest  fire,  as  he  saw  his  young 
friend  fall.  His  bronze  countenance  for  a  moment 
became  white,  and  then  the  order  to  retreat  rang 
above  the  shots  and  medley  of  cries.  Realising  that 
the  tide  of  battle  had  turned  against  them,  the  for- 
ester, unwilling  to  leave  his  fallen  friend  lying  there, 
lifted  his  unconscious  form  in  his  arms,  and  beat  a 
rapid  retreat.     As  if  out  of  respect  to  him  and  his 


tmmrn 


between 
the  front 

Still  the 
n  on,  and 
he  air,  the 

the  riven 
he  rear,  it 
5,  fighting 
win.  But 
)usly  forti- 
umber  the 
iir  favour, 
out  being 
:  aloft  his 
ny  just  as 
im.  With 
id.  the  flag 

1,  his  gun 
his  young 
a  moment 
jtreat  rang 
alising  that 
:m,  the  for- 
lying  there, 
and  beat  a 
lim  and  his 


rff£  HERO  OF  LOUrSBURG. 


3I» 


lifeless  companion,  the  firing  on  the  part  of  the 
enemy  suddenly  ceased.  Well  it  might,  for  so  disas- 
trous had  been  its  furious  volleys  that  nearly  one-half 
of  the  gallant  besiegers  lay  dead  or  wounded  on  the 
scene  of  the  ill-fated  charge. 

Norman  McNiel  had  received  a  severe  flesh-wound, 
but  unmindful  of  that,  he  rushed  forward  to  assist 
the  forester  in  carrying  his  burden,  though  the  latter 
paid  no  need  to  him  as  he  strode  to  the  rear  and 
laid  the  unfortunate  young  man  down  on  the  sand, 
the  flag  for  which  he  had  fallen  still  wrapped  about 
him.  Dropping  upon  his  knees,  the  Woodranger 
began  a  hasty  examination  of  the  wounds  of  the 
other. 

"  Is  he  dead  } "  asked  Norman,  anxiously,  while 
a  circle  of  battle-marked  friends  gathered  about  the 
place.  It  seemed  a  long  time  before  the  Wood- 
ranger  replied,  and  then  his  voice  was  so  husky  that 
he  could  be  scarcely  heard  : 

"The  lad  has  kept  his  faith.  He's  gone  'yon' 
the  reach  o'  the  inemy.  It  be  sad  news  to  impart 
to  the  waiting  lass.  Why  could  not  they  have 
taken  the  ol'  man  ?  I  see  it  was  coming  —  I  see 
it  was  coming,  and  why  did  I  'low  sich  a  blameful 
indiscretion  ? " 

Never  had  his  friends  seen  the  Woodranger  so 
stricken  with  sorrow.  He  refused  to  leave  the  side 
of  the  inanimate  form,  ever  and  anon  breaking  out 


m  1 


312 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER, 


into  speeches  of  reproach  for  himself  in  allowing 
what  he  seemed  to  think  he  might  have  prevented. 
Though  the  hope  of  capturing  the  battery  was  not 
abandoned,  it  was  evident  that  some  other  tactics 
would  have  to  be  adopted. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 


AN    ASTONISHING    DISCOVERY, 


A  RESPITE  on  the  part  of  the  New  England  troops 
followed  their  futile  attempt  to  capture  the  island 
battery,  while  a  wave  of  sorrow  ran  over  the  sur- 
vivors for  the  fate  of  their  fallen  comrades.  Deso- 
hte  Louisburg  is  to-day  the  resting-place  of  the 
bones  of  those  gallant  volunteers.  Among  the  rest 
sleeps  Ensign  Edward  Hyland,  who  was  afterward 
breveted  captain  for  meritorious  conduct.  His  loss  was 
keenly  felt  by  all  of  the  little  band  who  had  come 
from  the  valley  of  the  Merrimack,  but  the  blov/  fell 
heaviest  on  the  Woodranger,  who  said,  as  they  stood 
over  the  lifeless  form  for  the  last  time : 

"Aweel,  now's  me,  it  be  a  wanton  way  o'  natur' 
that  I,  an  ol'  gnarled  oak  scaired  by  the  storms  o' 
years,  be  standing  blindly  at  the  border  o'  the  Dark 
Woods,  while  the  young  and  vigorous  maple,  with 
leaves  no  bigger'n  rabbit's  ears,  has  been  felled  by 
the  lightning's  bolt.  To  him  varsed  in  the  ways 
o'  the  wild  wood,  the  trails  o'  man  and  creetur*  be 
easy  to  follow,  but  neither  the  master  o'  books  nor 

313 


m 


!      ( 


"mmt 


fm 


3«4 


r//E    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


the  seeker  arter  natur's  secrets  can  read  the  sign 
o'  the  gray  woodsman  whose  foot  makes  no  print  in 
the  leaves  o'  time,  and  who  sla)s  with  a  bow  that  has 
no  twang.  N-iy,  lads,  do  not  think  me  murmuring.  In 
all  consistency  I  must  agree  that  it  is  best  for  him  to 
go  now.  There  be  fewer  to  weep  for  him  than  there 
would  be  if  he  had  lived  to  widen  his  circle  o'  fri'nds ; 
but  for  y.ri  ol'  man  like  me  there'll  be  fewer  to  weep 
by  and  by.  On  the  great  neutral  ground  Edward 
has  reached,  he  is  safe ;  can  we  say  as  much  for  the 
living  ? " 

If  the  desperate  charges  against  the  island  battery 
had  proved  fruitless,  they  yet  served  to  sti'  '^e  the 
colonists  to  greater  endeavours.       Some  -tage 

must  be  gained,  and  that  speedily  if  they  wished  to 
capture  the  works.  On  the  nth  of  June  a  circular 
battery  was  erected  on  the  mainland  to  the  northeast, 
and  from  this  vantage  the  guns  of  the  French  were 
finally  silenced  without  much  loss  of  life. 

Meanwhile,  the  sea  force  under  Admiral  Warren 
had  succeeded  in  capturing  a  French  supply-shipj 
which  had  a  discouraging  effect  on  Duchambon. 
Although  so  strongly  entrenched,  a  feeling  of  discon- 
tent existed  among  his  men,  so  that  he  was  in  con- 
stant dread  of  an  outbreak  or  desertion  if  he  should 
allow  his  soldiers  to  go  outside  the  fortifications. 
Then,  the  New  England  troops  had  managed  to 
move  about  in  a  way  which  gave  the  impression  that 


.,..  |. 


AN  ASTOS'ISHING  DISCOVERY. 


315 


1  the  sign 
io  print  in 
w  that  has 
luring.  In 
for  him  tu 
than  there 
o'  fri'nds ; 
er  to  weep 
id  Edward 
ich  for  the 

nd  battery 
;i  "^e  the 
..tage 
'  wished  to 
:  a  circular 
;  northeast, 
rench  were 

ral  Warren 
3upply-shipj 
)uchambon. 
2^  of  discon- 
ivas  in  con- 
f  he  should 
)rtifi  cations, 
nanaged  to 
ression  that 


they  were  of  greater  number  than  was  really  the 
case.  Thus,  worried  by  troubles  within  his  ranks, 
and  believing  that  the  Knglish  troops  were  fully  able 
to  carry  on  the  siege  indefinitely,  on  the  17th  of 
June,  after  he  had  been  besieged  forty-nine  days  by 
the  indomitable  raw  recruits  from  New  England,  the 
commander  of  Louisburg  surrendered. 

Great  rejoicing  reigned  among  the  colonists  as 
soon  as  the  French  stronghold  had  capitulated,  and 
their  wild  dreams  had  been  realised.  But  it  was 
learned  at  once  that  few,  if  any,  of  the  troops  would 
be  allowed  to  return  home  unt!'  relief  had  come  to 
hold  the  city.  The  Woodrangcr,  however,  had  not 
enlisted  as  a  volunteer,  so  no  objection  could  be 
made  against  his  departure  whenever  he  chose.  He 
sought  Rob  and  Norman  as  soon  as  the  news  of  the 
capitulation  of  Louisburg  had  reached  them,  saying : 

"  I  should  pi-evicate  the  truth  did  I  not  say  that  a 
heavy  load  lays  on  my  heart  like  a  bank  o'  snow. 
There  be  two  trails  to  follow  where  there  be  but  one 
pair  o'  feet.  I  see  in  the  path  0'  the  setting  sun  a 
maid  waiting  and  watching  for  a  lover  who  ne'er  will 
return  to  lighten  with  the  joy  o"  a  kind  word  the 
heart  that  be  heavy.  I  can  ne'er  dissemble,  lads,  it 
would  be  like  a  father  breaking  the  news  to  his  only 
child  to  be  the  bearer  o'  sich  a  message.  Mebbe, 
lad,"  addressing  Norman,  "you'll  speak  to  her  of 
this.     You  have  the  fluency  o'  speech  which  comes 


iglgl 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 

from  books.  They  cannot  keep  you  here  overlong,  and 
the  heart  does  not  break  that  is  waiting.  You  will 
take  thi!-,  niOssage  to  her,  lad,  and  say  to  her  from 
rue  that  the  wood  that  bends  makes  no  plaint  o' 
suffering  ' " 

"I  will,  Woodranger,  though  it  is  a   sad   duty. 
Ililma  is  to  me  all  that  a  sister  can  be." 

"I  know  it,  lad.     The  errant  is  safe  with  you. 
That  haves  me  but  one  trail  to  follow." 
"  And  that  is  to  find  the  Briants  } "  said  Rob. 
"  If  they  be  spared  this  long,  lad,  which  it  be  not 
discreet  for  me  to  say." 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,  Woodranger,"  said 
Rob,  "but  I  can^l." 

"  I  understand,  lad,  I  do.  If  the  trail  be  not  over- 
long  or  too  deep  kivered  we  shall  meet  ag'in,"  and 
pressing  their  hands,  unable  to  say  more,  he  started 
on  his  long  and  uncertain  search,  while  they  joined 
the  troops  in  their  first  visit  to  the  walled  city. 
When  Colonel  Vaughan  and  the  others  came  to 
gaze  on  the  fortifications  of  the  French  stronghold, 
and  understood  as  they  had  not  before  the  real 
strength  of  Louisburg,  they  were  amazed  at  their 
success. 

"Zounds,  boys!"  exclaimed  the  impetuous 
Vaughan,  "here  is  a  memento  for  us  to  take  back 
to  Portsmouth,  as  a  reminder  that  we  have  seen  and 
conquered    Louisburg,"   pointing    to   a   bell   whose 


.  v 


overlong,  and 

ig.     You  will 

■  to  her  from 

no  plaint  o' 

a   sad   duty. 

be." 

ife  with  you. 

.w." 

said  Rob. 

tiich  it  be  not 

iranger,"  said 

,il  be  not  over- 
set ag'in,"  and 
)re,  he  started 
le  they  joined 
;  walled  city, 
hers  came  to 
ch  stronghold, 
;fore  the  real 
lazed  at  their 

le     impetuous 

to  take  back 

have  seen  and 

a   bell   whose 


AN  ASTONISHING  DISCOVERY. 


317 


brazen   tongue   had   often   rur^g  from   th,  lortified 
chapel  of  the  wailed  city.' 

The  terms  of  capitulation  conserited  to  by  Gov- 
ernor Duchambon  gave  to  General  Pepperell  the 
custody  of  nineteen  hundred  prisoners  of  war.  The 
city  at  this  time  contained  about  five  thousand  in- 
habitants, besides  the  armed  forces,  and  general  con- 
sternation reigned  among  them.  But  order  was  soon 
brought  out  of  chaos,  when  a  most  astonishing  bit 
of  news  reached  Rob  and  Norman.  This  was  noth- 
ing less  than  the  fact  that  among  the  prisoners  held 
by  the  French  was  the  Briant  family! 

Obtaining  special  permission  to  visit  them  as  soon 
as  they  could,  our  friends  found  the  others  nearly 
overjoyed  at  meeting   ;hem. 

"  This  seems  like  a  special  deliverance  at  the  hand 
of  Providence,"  declared  Mr.  Briant,  as  he  wrung  the 
hand  of  Rob  and  then  of  Norman.  "  I  had  given  up 
all  hope  of  ever  escaping.  We  have  been  here  for 
four  months.     But  where  is  the  Woodranger .? " 

When  Rob  had  explained  to  him  the  search  upon 
which  the  forester  hac  departed,  the  Acadian  ranger 
said : 

"We  have  much  to  thank  him  for,  and  I  shall 
lose  no  time  in  going  in  quest  of  him.  \  ou  and  the 
children  will  be  quite  safe  here,  Mary.      I  hope  it 

'  This  bell  is  now  heaid  at  the  St.  John's  Church,  Portsmouth, 
N.  H. 


3i8 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


will  not  be  long  before  we  shall  be  able  to  return  to 
our  home  in  Acadia.     Yes,  after  parting  with  you 
on  the  St.  Mary's  we  reached  Sherbrooke  in  safety, 
thanks  to  Jean  Vallie.     The  noble  fellow  returned 
to  his  home  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  us  safely  quar- 
tered, and  we  have  not  heard  from  him  since.     Per- 
haps we  should  have  been  better  off  to  have  remained 
there,  but  we  were  warned  that  the  Dark  Abb6  had 
learned  of  our  retreat,  so  we  thought  best  to  flee 
again.     We  tried  to  get  to  Barney  River,  but  the 
Micmacs   ran  across  us,  and,  after   a   fierce    fight, 
for  my  wound  had  got  better,  we  were  captured  and 
brought  here.     My  wound  is  perfectly  healed  now, 
and  I  am  anxious  to  rub  off  some  of  the  rust  coming 
of  this  long  inactivity.     So  I  shall  find  the  Wood- 
ranger  at  once." 

Considerable  was  told  of  the  terror  and  anxiety 
hanging  over  the  city  during  the  long  siege,  and 
Alex  declared  it  was  worse  than  flying  from  the 
Indians  up  the  Subenacadie.  But,  except  for  the 
sadness  felt  over  the  untimely  fate  of  Edward 
Hyland,  the  little  group  felt  very  thankful  for  their 
safe  passage  through  the  trying  scenes  of  the  past 
few  months.  With  hearty  good  wishes  for  a  speedy 
return  on  the  part  of  the  others,  Wallace  Briant  set 
out  to  find  the  Woodranger,  and  bring  him  back  to 
Louisburg,  never  dreaming  but  the  task  would  be  an 
easy  one. 


mutmtm 


D  return  to 
with  you 
I  in  safety, 
V  returned 
afely  quar- 
ince.  Per- 
e  remained 
Ahh6  had 
est  to  flee 
it,  but  the 
erce  fight, 
ptured  and 
lealed  now, 
ust  coming 
the  Wood- 

,nd  anxiety 
siege,  and 
;  from  the 
;pt  for  the 
of  Edward 
ul  for  their 
of  the  past 
or  a  speedy 
;  Briant  set 
lim  back  to 
vould  be  an 


AJV^  4ST0NISHING  DISCOVERY. 


319 


Both  Rob  and  Norman  missed  the  genial  com- 
panionship of  the  Woodranger  more  than  they  cared 
to  acknowledge,  while,  as  week  after  week  passed 
without  bringing  any  tidings  of  Mr.  Briant,  all  began 
to  grow  anxious.  The  scouts  had  entered  the  very 
heart  of  the  enemy's  country,  and  it  was  feared 
that  they  had  lost  their  Hves,  though  the  young 
soldiers  shared  this  feeling  less  than  Mrs.  Briant 
and  Alex. 

One  day,  as  our  heroes  were  talking  with  Alex  and 
his  mother,  a  few  words  in  the  conversation  caused 
Norman  to  inquire  more  into  the  particulars  of  their 
past  lives,  when  he  made  a  most  astonishing  dis- 
covery. 

"Do  you  mean,  Alex,  that  you  have  a  sister 
named  Rilma?  and  that  your  father  and  mother 
came  here  from  among  the  Scotch-Irish  people  of 
the  north  of  Ireland.^  and  that  your  grandfather's 
name  was  Robert  Mac  Donald .' " 

Norman  showed  so  much  excitement  that  the 
others  were  at  a  loss  to  account  for  it,  but  Mrs. 
Briant  repeated  in  about  the  same  words  the  story 
of  her  past  life  that  Mr.  Briant  had  told  the  Wood- 
ranger  in  the  canoe,  while  they  were  fleeing  up 
Cobequid  Bay. 

"  It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  I  ever  knew ! " 
exclaimed  Norman,  when  she  had  finished.  "  Rilma 
is  living  with  her  grandfather  near  my  home  on  the 


320 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


Merrimack.  She  is  my  cousin,  though  I  have 
alwavs  called  her  sister.     She  seems  like  it  — " 

Mrs.  Briant,  in  her  excitement,  did  not  allow  him 
to  complete  his  sentence,  and  an  animated  series  of 
questions  and  cross-questions  followed,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  which  Mrs.  Briant  said  : 

"  I.  am  sure  you  are  right,  and  I  do  not  know  what 
to  say  or  think.  It  seems  too  good  to  be  true,  and 
yet  it  must  be.  I  have  mourned  my  darling  as  dead 
all  these  years,  and  now  I  shall  clasp  her  again  in 
my  arms.  It  seems  providential,  and  I  cannot  wait 
for  the  time  when  I  can  go  and  see  my  long-lost 
child.     I  wish  Wallace  were  here." 

From  that  time  forward  the  return  of  Mr.  Briant 
was  looked  for  more  anxiously  than  before,  and  when, 
at  the  end  of  two  months,  Rob  and  Norman  were 
given  permission  to  leave  Louisburg,  this  feeling  be- 
came intense.  They  did  not  wish  to  leave  without 
knowing  his  fate,  and  it  seemed  an  impossible  task 
to  find  him.  But  Rob  was  all  ready  to  start  on  the 
quest,  when,  to  the  great  joy  of  all,  Mr.  Briant  re- 
turned.    But  he  bore  no  tidings  of  the  Woodranger. 

"I  am  ashamed  to  say  it,"  he  said,  "but  I  have 
been  far  and  wide  without  finding  him.  Once,  in 
the  region  of  the  Subenacadie,  I  got  on  track  of 
some  one  whose  description  tallied  ^^ith  his,  but  I 
soon  lost  further  trace  of  him." 

"  The  Woodranger  will  look  out  for  himself,"  said 


;h    I    have 

e  it  — " 
t  allow  him 
id  series  of 
the  conclu- 

know  what 
36  true,  and 
ling  as  dead 
ler  again  in 
cannot  wait 
Tiy  long-lost 

[  Mr.  Briant 
e,  and  when, 
forman  were 
s  feeling  be- 
;ave  without 
possible  task 

start  on  the 
r.  Briant  re- 
Woodranger. 
"but  I  have 
a.     Once,  in 

on  track  of 
:h  his,  but  I 

himself,"  said 


r^imi8Hr"T"iH'tiii 


AJV  ASTONISHING  DISCOVERY. 


321 


Rob,  "  but  while  the  rest  of  you  go  directly  home,  I 
think  I  will  follow  in  his  footsteps.  I  cannot  resist 
the  temptation,  though  I  may  not  find  him.  I  will 
get  home  before  the  snow  flies." 

Mr,  Briaiiu  shared  with  Mrs.  Briant  the  joy  of 
what  had  been  learned  concerning  her  lost  child,  and 
he  was  as  anxious  as  any  of  them  to  go  to  the  Mer- 
rimack, though  they  might  be  obliged  to  return  to 
Acadia  as  soon  as  the  war  was  over.  So  the  others 
bade  adieu  to  Rob,  who  went  toward  Grand  Pr6, 
while  they  took  passage  on  a  ship  for  Portsmouth, 
and  from  there  made  a  tedious  journey  to  the  little 
settlement  at  Namaske  Falls.  It  is  easy  to  picture 
to  the  mind's  eye  the  happiness  of  such  a  meeting  as 
that  was  in  the  humble  home  of  Robert  MacDonald. 
Whatever  wrongs  he  may  have  done  under  the  influ- 
ence of  his  bitter  surroundings,  in  the  years  gone 
by,  they  were  forgotten  now,  and  he  wept  with  the 
others  tears  of  joy. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE   FIGHT   AT   THE    FORGE. 

Early  in  the  following  winter  Rob  Rogers  returned 
to  his  home,  but,  to  the  disappointment  of  many,  he 
brought  no  tidings  of  the  missing  forester.  It  was 
generally  believed  that  he  had  been  killed  by  some 
of  the  French  or  Indians,  ai.d  his  loss  was  felt  keenly. 

Even  Rob  could  not  think  differently,  and  the 
\Toodranger  had  no  more  sincere  mourner  than  the 
boy  rangers,  who  now  began  active  duties  in  ranging 
and  scouting  in  the  northern  woods. 

The  war  could  be  said  to  be  fairly  on,  and  from 
west  to  east  the  colonists,  English  and  French,  were 
everywhere  watchful  and  aggressive.  An  expedition 
to  seize  Fort  Frederick  at  Crown  Point,  which  lay 
in  the  route  from  Albany  to  Montreal,  as  planned 
by  the  commander  of  the  British  and  provincial  troops, 
prompted  to  do  it  by  the  success  of  the  expedition  to 
Louisburg.  The  French  prepared  in  earnest  to  carry 
out  the  scheme,  which  had  been  so  prematurely 
announced,  of  desolating  New  England  at  one  great 
swoop  of  sea  and  land   forces.     To  act  a  part  in 

322 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  FORGE. 


323 


conjunction  with  the  expected  armament  from  France, 
in  the  early  part  of  the  summer  of  1746,  regular 
troops,  militia,  and  Indians  to  the  number  of  two 
thousand,  were  sent  from  Quebec  into  the  Acadian 
country. 

If  the  first  report  of  the  coming  of  the  French 
armada  had  proved  a  false  alarm,  it  was  likely  to 
become  real  enough  now.  In  spite  of  the  watchful- 
ness of  the  British,  the  largest  and  most  powerful 
war  fleet  that  had  ever  started  to  cross  the  Atlantic 
stole  out  of  the  harbour  of  Brest  and  steered  away 
toward  New  France.  The  fleet  consisted  of  over 
seventy  sails,  eleven  being  ships  of  the  line,  twenty 
frigates,  five  were  bomb  ships,  while  the  balance 
were  tenders  and  transports.  They  carried  over  three 
thousand  soldiers.  The  entire  forces  of  land  and  sea 
were  placed  under  the  command  of  Duke  d'Anville, 
a  nobleman  of  experience  in  warfare,  and  his  orders 
were  to  recover  Louisburg  and  Annapolis-Royal,  which 
he  was  to  garrison,  thence  capture  Boston,  and  raid 
the  whole  coast  of  America  to  the  West  Indies. 

It  was  not  for  the  proud  duke  to  carry  out  his 
ambitious  scheme,  as  he  was  to  meet  with  an  enemy 
which  his  army  could  not  overpower.  His  fleet  was 
met  by  stormy  weather  soon  after  starting,  so  that 
its  destination  was  not  reached  before  the  autumn 
gales  set  in.  These  disabled  many  of  his  ships,  and 
scattered  the  vessels  in  every  direction.     One  was 


W^ 


324 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


burned,  and  two  sent  back,  only  to  be  captured  by 
the  English.     After  an  anxious  and  perilous  passage, 
lasting  a  hundred  days,  the  commander  reached  Che- 
bucto  (now  Halifax)  with  but  one  ship  of  the  line  and 
a  transport.     He  found  three  transports  already  there, 
and  a  frigate  arrived  the  following  day.     Believing 
these  were  all  there  were  left  of  his  powerful  armada, 
which  had  created  such  expectations  in  France,  the 
admiral   fell  a   victim  to  grief  and  disappointment, 
his  death  hastened,  some  say,  by  poison.     In  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  that  Duke  d'Anville  died,  Vice-Ad- 
miral  Destournelle  reached  Chebucto  with  three  ships 
of  the  line.   The  fleet  was  so  decimated  that  he  deemed 
it  inadvisable  to  attempt  any  attack  on  the  English. 
This  decision   overruled  by  his    subordinates,   in  a 
dclirum  of  despondency,  when  he  imagined  himself  a 
prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  he  killed  himself 
with  his  sword. 

Though  the  French  officer  next  in  command  had 
decided  to  move  upon  Annapolis  in  conjunction  with 
the  soldiers  sent  from  Quebec,  it  was  necessary  to 
wait  until  the  men  could  recuperate  before  starting 
to  meet  the  others  in  the  rendezvous  at  Minas, 
now  Horton.  During  this  delay  a  disease  broke  out 
among  the  troops,  spreading  with  frightful  effect. 
It  was  soon  caught  by  the  Indians,  and  before  its 
ravages  had  been  stopped  nearly  one-third  of  the 
whole  tribe  of  Micmacs  had  died.     The  Indians  of 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  FORGE. 


325 


tured  by 
passage, 
bed  Che- 
line  and 
idy  there, 
Believing 
1  armada, 
ance,  the 
ointment, 
the  after- 
Vice-Ad- 
iree  ships 
le  deemed 
English, 
.tes,  in  a 
himself  a 
d  himself 

Tiand  had 
;tion  with 
"essary  to 
e  starting 
at  Minas, 
broke  out 
'ul  effect, 
before  its 
rd  of  the 
[ndians  of 


North  America  were  very  susceptible  to  contagious 
diseases,  as  all  savages  are,  and  their  numbers  were 
often  decimated  at  a  fearful  rate  by  some  disorder. 

The  delay  at  Chebucto  was  suddenly  ended  by 
the  capture  of  an  English  vessel  bound  from  Boston 
to  Louisburg,  and  carrying,  among  other  papers 
seized,  a  letter  disclosing  a  plan  of  general  attack  on 
the  French  by  a  British  fleet,  then  on  the  way  across 
the  ocean,  and  the  New  England  men.  Alarmed  at 
this,  the  French  commander  decided  to  move  at  once, 
but  his  action  proved  ill-advised,  for  off  the  coast  of 
Cape  Sable  the  fleet,  consisting  now  of  forty  sail,  was 
disabled  and  scattered  by  a  storm,  so  that  the  poor 
remnant  of  the  proud  armada  that  was  to  reduce 
New  England  was  glad  to  return  to  France  in  dis- 
appointment and  sorrow. 

But  if  rid  of  the  "flower  of  the  French  army," 
New  England  stood  in  constant  dread  of  the  allied 
enemies,  white  and  red,  who  menaced  the  safety  of 
the  entire  frontier.  Thus  a  thousand  men  volun- 
teered to  go  to  New  Scotland,  or  Nova  Scotia,  and 
make  a  bold  stand.  These  troops  started  by  ships, 
to  meet  with  many  misfortunes.  Nearly  a  third  of 
those  from  Rhode  Island  were  shipwrecked  off  Mar- 
tha's Vineyt^rd.  New  Hampshire's  contingent  of 
two  hundred  succeeded  in  reaching  the  coast  off 
Annapolis-Royal  in  the  month  of  January.  Believing 
that  no  other.*  had  been  able  to  get  so  far,  and  the 


326 


THE    YOUNG   CUNBEARER. 


weather  becoming  more  inclement,  they  went  to  St. 
Johns,  New  Brunswick,  and  thence  returned  home. 

Among  these  troops  were  Robert  Rogers  and 
Norman  McNiel,  who  went  ashore  while  the  ship  lay 
off  Nova  Scotia,  and,  in  the  faint  hope  of  getting  on 
the  track  of  the  Woodranger,  decided  to  make  an 
overland  journey  to  Grand  Pr6.  A  kind  providence 
seemed  to  have  directed  their  footsteps,  for  on  the 
fourth  day  they  fell  in  with  a  body  of  Massachusetts 
troops,  who  were  the  volunteers  from  that  province, 
and  had  succeeded  in  gaining  the  Bay  of  Fundy, 
where  it  was  found  impracticable  to  proceed  farther 
on  the  vessel.  Accordingly,  the  hardy  troops  had 
left  the  vessel,  to  undertake  one  of  the  worst  marches 
that  could  be  imagined,  shaping  their  course  for  the 
meadows  of  the  Gasppreau. 

The  weather  continued  cold  throughout  midwinter 
that  year,  and  snow  fell  to  such  depths  that  it  lay  in 
mighty  drifts  on  the  marshes,  and  in  the  forests  it 
was  more  than  four  feet  deep,  light  and  fluffy,  so  that 
the  men  who  led  the  train  had  to  wade  through  it 
almost  to  their  breasts.  When  it  was  too  late  they 
found  their  mistake  in  not  taking  snow-shoes,  but, 
taking  turns  in  breaking  the  way,  they  marched 
bravely  ahead,  the  spruce  and  hemlock  bowed  be- 
neath the  burden  of  the  storms  forming  long,  ghost- 
like walks,  where  the  footfall  gave  back  no  sound, 
and  the  sun  failed  to  penetrate. 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  FORGE. 


327 


Rob  and  Norman  fared  no  better  than  the  others. 
In  fact,  they  took  their  turns  with  the  Massachusetts 
men,  until  the  end  of  the  wintry  march  of  fight  days, 
when  one  and  all  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  the 
snow-white  meadows  of  Grand  Pr^. 

It  was  snowint;  on  the  evening  that  the  toil-worn 
men  reached  their  destination,  and,  seeking  the  most 
sheltered  spot  they  could  find,  they  went  into  quar- 
ters along  a  lane  running  to  the  west  of  the  village. 
Others  sought  a  place  of  shelter  near  the  beech 
woods  extending  toward  the  well-known  smithy  of 
Basil  le  Noir,  the  gunmaker  of  Acadia. 

Rob  and  Norman  were  with  this  division,  and, 
though  they  could  not  blame  the  tired  fellows,  they 
were  surprised  at  the  indifference  shown  by  the 
party  to  taking  any  precanMonary  steps  for  self-pro- 
tection, knowing  as  they  did  that,  if  they  were  in  the 
country  of  the  Acadian  neutrals,  they  also  were  in 
the  land  of  the  Dark  Abb6  and  his  followers.  It  is 
true  a  guard  was  fixed,  but  as  tha  evening  wore  on, 
and  a  furious  wind  swept  the  open  country  and  filled 
their  faces  with  the  white,  fluffy  mass,  one  by  one 
these  poor  fellows  crept  under  the  hasty  shelter 
raised  for  the  protection  of  their  more  fortunate 
companions. 

Rob  laid  down  to  rest,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  was 
too  careful  a  woodsman  to  be  caught  off  his  watch. 
Seeing   that   the  soldiers  had   left   their  posts,  he 


■'.»-J«»«i*=^-«rtWf  HBki  -,  > 


328 


THE    YOUNG  GUNBEARER. 


rose  to  his  feet,  and  began  to  march  back  and  forth 
with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder.  It  was  nearly  mid- 
night then,  and  the  wind  was  howling  bitterly  over 
the  tree  tops  and  down  through  the  orchards  of 
Grand  Vxi.  Not  a  light  came  from  the  half-buried 
cottages,  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  object,  human 
or  inanimate,  was  fast  asleep,  save  the  wind  and 
the  snow.  The  young  Gunbearer  was  thinking  of 
the  evening  a  year  and  a  half  before,  when  he 
and  the  Woodranger  had  met  with  such  stirring 
adventure  in  that  vicinity,  when  a  tall,  snow-white 
figure  appeared  just  beyond  him. 

«'  Halt ! "  he  commanded,  bringing  his  gun  to 
bear  upon  the  newcomer.     "  Who  arc  you  .'  " 

"  That  be  a  discreet  p'int  to  settle,"  replied  a  well- 
known  voice,  and  in  a  moment  Rob  forgot  everything 
else  in  his  joy  at  meeting  an  old  friend. 

"  The  W. ;  Iranger  !  "  he  exclaimed,  joyously. 
"Where  in  the  world  have  you  come  from  .'  "  and  he 
grasped  the  other's  hand  with  a  grip  of  fervent 
friendship. 

"That  be  not  amazement  to  unravel  now,  lad, 
though  it  does  these  ol'  eyes  good  to  rest  on  thy 
form,  whicn  has  grown  taller  and  stouter  since  I 
went  away.  I  do  not  previcate  the  truth,  lad,  when 
I  say  that  I  have  perambulated  a  goodish  distance  to 
get  in  here  ahead  o'  thv"  French  and  the  plumed 
heathens,  who  have  beat  rae,  arter  all.     Let  every 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  FORGE. 


329 


New  England  man  be  aroused,  for  the  inemy  is  upon 
him.  They  have  tramped  all  the  way  from  Chig- 
necto,  and  are  six  hundred  or  more  in  number." 

This  startling  news  brought  an  exclamation  of 
surprise  from  Rob,  who  quickly  said  : 

"Do  you  think  they  will  attack  us  soon,  Wood- 
ranger  ? " 

"  In  less'n  ten  minutes,  lad,  or  I  ne'er  know  what 
in  all  consistency  be  mine  to  foretell.  Where  be 
the  guard?" 

"There  is  none,  Woodranger.  We  are  in  bad 
shape  for  a  fight." 

"  Seeing  the  inemy  have  worn  snow-shoes,  they  be 
no'er  overmuch  fagged.  They  have  just  got  all  the 
inhabitants  o'  this  place  clus  down  by  the  water,  so 
as  to  get  'em  out'n  harm's  way.  It  may  be  they've 
shown  a  discretionary  spirit,  I  can  ne'er  tell.  This 
be  the  plan  o'  the  blacksmith,  who  will  help  lead  the 
Micmacs." 

The  camp  was  quickly  roused,  and  Norman  v/as 
beside  Rob  in  a  moment.  Then,  a  runner  was  sent 
post-haste  to  warn  the  others  under  the  command 
of  Colonel  Noble.  He  had  barely  started  before  a 
musket-shot  was  heard  in  the  direction  of  the  lane. 

"  They  have  opened  the  battle,"  said  Rob,  «  and  it 
will  be  a  hot  fight." 

The  first  attack  was  made  on  the  main  body  in 
the  lane,  and  the  poor  fellows  were  slaughtered  like 


% 


'.-****«»*ftl-SfliSSB«9»AVliai£iW<»»«i^«'*' 


330 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


SO  many  deer  suddenly  driven  from  their  retreat. 
The  drifting  snow  blurred  the  sight  and  filled  the 
air,  while  the  shrieks  of  the  wind  drowned  at  times 
the  \/ar-criei»  of  the  enemy,  and  the  surprised  soldiers 
fought  blindly,  hopelessly,  vainly,  from  the  first.     The 
party  in  the  woods  was  about  to  dash  to  the  assist- 
ance of  their  comrades,  when  they  found  themselves 
grappling  hand  to  hand  with  overwhelming  numbers. 
Led  by  Rob    Rogers,   the  majority  of  these  broke 
through  the  line  and  retreated  toward  the  lane,  in 
the   hope   of  joining   with    their   friends.     But   the 
night  was  so  dark  and  stormy  that  they  floundered 
about  u-'\ble  to  find  their  way.     They  had  now  come 
to  a  house  and  barn,  and  Rob  quickly  set  fire  to  the 
latter.     It  was   well  filled,  and  by  the  bright  light 
of  the  burning  building  the  scattered  soldiers  were 
enabled  to  •■ally,  and,  uniting,  made  such  a  determined 
stand  that  the  enemy  was  driven  back  for  the  time. 
In  order  to  obtain  a  better  position,  a  retreat  was 
made,  and,  guided  by  the  Woodranger,  the  New  Eng- 
landers  made  a  firm  resistance  at  the  smithy  of  Basil 
le   Noir.     The   allied   forces   made   three  desperate 
attempts  to  drive  out  the  little  party,  one  of  them 
led  by  Basil  le  Noir,  who  lost  his  life  in  the  attack. 

During  the  intervals  between  the  attacks  of  the 
French  Rob  learned  that  the  Woodranger  had  been 
on  a  lengthy  "  perambulation  "  of  the  north  country, 
and  that  he  had  given  up  searching  for  the  Briants, 


luifaiiliiiiHliatlill 


MMMMMWI 


fdW 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  FORGE. 


331 


etreat. 
2d  the 
;  times 
ioldiers 
.     The 
assist- 
n  selves 
imbers. 
!  broke 
lane,  in 
iut  the 
iindered 
»w  come 
;  to  the 
ht  light 
;rs  were 
ler  mined 
e  time, 
eat  was 
|ew  Eng- 
of  Basil 
esperate 
lof  them 
Lttack. 

of  the 

lad  been 

country, 

Briants, 


having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  they  had  been 
killed.  He  showed  more  surprise  than  usual  when 
he  was  told  of  their  safety,  and  as  Rob  described  the 
reunion  of  the  family  with  the  daughter  so  long  lost 
the  eyes  of  the  forester  kindled  'vith  pleasure,  and 
he  said: 

"Then  the  truth  be  known,  lad.  It  is  better  so 
—  better  as  it  is.  I  swan  I  haven't  felt  so  chipper 
since  I  was  a  lad.  It  may  be  an  ol'  man's  weak  p'int, 
but  the  ol'  man's  heart  be  lighter,  and  he  can  peram- 
bulate the  long  trail  with  ne'er  desire  to  look  back. 
It  be  good,  lad,  when  one  can  look  straight  ahead 
and  disi  ?»T^emK,,:-  the  crooks  and  quirls  in  the  trail 
behind." 

"  Yes,  Woodranger,  and  it  will  add  to  their  happi- 
ness when  you  return.  You  have  been  spoken  of 
often." 

"  Be  that  the  truth,  lad  }  And  they  remembered 
the  ol'  man .'  I  mean  as  they  might  a  simple  friend 
and  companion.  Tell  me  if  that  be  the  truth,  'yon' 
prevication,  lad  ? " 

"It  is,  Wood  ranger.  They  remember  you  as  a 
dear  and  faithful  friend,  one  who  risked  his  life  for 
them,  and  they  will  hail  your  coming  with  great 
joy." 

"  It  be  better  for  me  to  carry  that  sweet  thought 
in  my  hfart  than  all  else.  I  can  ne'er  previcate  the 
truth,  nor  dissemble  to  you,  lad.     There  be  an  un- 


I    I 


I      y 


332 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


rest  o'er  me.  It  may  be  an  ol'  man's  weakness,  but 
as  sich  I'm  prone  to  let  it  master  me.  I  opine  I 
wi  ;  perambulate  the  forest  awhile  longer.  If  I  am 
^  •  le  overlong,  lads,"  speaking  now  both  to  Rob  and 
Aorman,  "  and  the  years  flow  on  like  a  swift-running 
river  that  ne'er  flows  backward,  memory  will  bridge 
the  stream  o'  time,  and  our  meeting  and  our  parting 
here  will  seem  but  yesterday.  Nay,  lads,  dissent 
not.  It  be  better  I  follow  this  whim.  Sometime 
you  may  see  it  as  I  do.     Now  you  cannot." 

The  yellow  light  of  a  winter  morning  lay  on  the 
snow,  crimsoned  here  and  there  with  the  life-blood 
of  the  victims  of  that  night's  bitter  fight,  while 
occasional  dark  spots  marked  the  half-buried  bodies 
of  the  slain.  As  the  Woodranger  ceased  speaking,  a 
French  officer,  bearing  a  flag  of  truce,  was  seen  to 
be  approaching  the  smithy.  The  firing  down  by  the 
lane  had  died  into  an  ominous  silence.  It  was 
quickly  agreed  by  the  little  band  by  the  forge  that 
they  could  do  no  better  than  to  listen  to  the  pro- 
posal of  the  enemy,  and  thus  they  awaited  his 
coming  with  anxious  interest. 

The  result  of  the  conference  was  an  acceptance 
of  the  best  terms  of  capitulation  they  could  make. 
The  conditions  of  their  surrender  were  that  they 
should  march  off  toward  Annapolis  with  arms  shoul- 
dered, drums  beating,  and  colours  flying,  as  they 
advanced  between   two  lines  of  the  enemy.     They 


the 
was 
that 
pro- 
his 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  FORGE. 


33i 


were  to  be  allowed  six  days'  provisions,  a  pound  of 
powderj  and  a  suitable  supply  of  bullets  to  each  man. 
On  their  part,  each  man  pledged  himself  not  to  bear 
arms  for  six  months  against  the  French  in  that 
region  of  Acadia.  They  learned  then  that  none  of 
Colonel  Noble's  gallant  followers  had  escaped. 

As  they  were  about  to  march  forth,  Rob  and 
Norman  looked  around  for  the  Woodranger,  when, 
to  their  surprise,  he  was  not  to  be  seen.  During  the 
suspense  of  the  debate  with  the  officer  of  truce  he 
had  slipped  out  through  the  window  of  the  smithy 
unobserved  by  any  one,  and,  by  crawling  through  the 
snow,  had  passed  the  enemy.  Both  were  keenly 
disappointed,  but  they  felt  that  their  friend  had 
acted  as  his  judgment  had  dictated,  and  that  he 
would  escape  his  enemies. 

The  fight  at  the  forge  ended  the  experiences  of 
Rob  and  Norman  in  Aa  dia,  for,  upon  reaching 
AnnapoHs-Royal,  they  started  for  the  Merrimack 
valley,  w  lich  they  reached  early  in  the  spring.  The 
inhabitants  in  that  \  inity  were  now  being  harassed 
by  French  and  Indian  bands,  so  that  both  of  them 
went  i'  to  active  service  on  the  western  frontier, 
bearing  gallant  part  in  the  perilous  scenes.  Eng- 
land paid  ut  little  heed  to  her  colonies  during  this 
war,  and  tae  year  1747  passed  without  any  important 
action  being  performed.  The  treaty  of  Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle  followed  on  October  18,   1748,  and  the  hard- 


334 


THE    YOUNG   GUNBEARER. 


fought  victory  of  Louisburg  was  treated  as  only  a 
piece  of  valuable  property,  since  they  traded  Louis- 
burg for  Madras  in  the  East  Indies,  and  it  remained 
in  French  possession  for  eight  years.  Then  an  Eng- 
lish fleet  and  army  that  might  be  termed  the  "  flower 
of  the  British  forces"  assailed  the  citadel  of  Cape 
Breton,  and  Louisburg  fell,  never  to  rise  again.  Her 
fort  was  dismantled,  fortifications  destroyed,  and 
to-day  only  their  ruins  mark  the  spot  of  the  remark- 
able victory  of  the  New  Englanders  in  1745. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  the  Briant  family  bade 
good-bye  to  their  friends  and  relatives  at  Namarke, 
';o  return  to  their  home  in  Acadia,  where  they  lived 
in  comparative  peace  until  the  great  banishment  in 
1755.  The  treaty  of  1748  leit  the  boundaries  of  the 
French  and  English  territory  in  America  as  unsettled 
as  ever,  and  our  heroes  of  the  Merrimack  valley 
were  constantly  called  upon  to  defend  the  frontier, 
none  in  the  sanguinary  struggle  doing  better  work 
than  the  Gunbearers  of  Silver  River,  and  chief 
among  these  was  Robert  Rogers. 

Of  course  the  Woodranger  reappeared  upon  the 
scene  of  action,  and  the  peculiar  incidents  connected 
with  his  return,  the  stirring  part  performed  by  John 
Stark,  I  hope  to  describe  in  my  next  Woodranger 
Tale,  entitled  "  The  Hero  of  the  Hills." 

THE   END.. 


TTOimUfl 


HHIrt 


1 


L.   C.   Page   &  Company's 
Gift   Book   Series 


FOR 


Boys  and  Girls 


Each  one  volume,  tall  I2mo,  doth,  lUustrated.  $1X0 

Author  of  "Little  Colonel."  etc.    Illustrated  by  E.  B  Barrv 
Mrs   Johnston  has  endeared  herself  to  the  children  bvh7; 

Senes.  Accordingly,  a  longer  story  by  her  y^tt  hi 
ea|[erly  welcomed  by  the  littll  ones  who  have  so  much 
enjoyed  each  story  from  her  pen. 

Chums.    By  Maria  Louise  Pool 

'^BridUn."''"''   ''"""''^"  '''■     "J-'^^'^d   by  L.  J. 

"  ?ii»rtK  '"  ^  ^'■'''  '^°'''  "bout  girls  and  for  girls.    It  re- 

Iwonntdf'^^"'"^^^'  "  ^'^''°°''  ''"^  during^acation,  of 


By  Will 


Three  Lhtle  Cfacfcm.    From  Dow^f  m  Dwie 
Allen  Dromgoole.  ^'s-sie. 

Author  of  "  The  Farrier'«  r»no  "     a  *-,  •     .• 
boys  and  girls.  ofX^a^v^nlVes  ^f  ^S'of  Sama' 
children  who  move  to  Florida  and  grow  upUlht  SouTh 

''*"»5?!?'^'  *^^^  °^'  Summkr  Days  in  the  Scottish 
A  ^  v"u''^'*,?'-  ^y  J'^A'^NETTE  A.  Grant.  ^^°™s" 
lanH^  ^  ^v*"'*^  ^'°^°^  *  summer  trip  through  Scot- 
land  somewhat  out  of  the  beaten  track.  A  teacher 
startmg  at  Glasgow,  takes  a  lively  party  of  girls  hi; 
pupils,  through  the  Trossachs  to  Oban!  throS'  the 
C^edoman   Canal   to   Inverness,  and  as'  far  A  « 


/ 


Gtft  Book  Scries  for  Boyi  and  Cith— Confinuttf. 

Three  Children  of  GaWees  A  Life  of  Christ  por  the 
YouNO.  By  John  Gordon. 
There  has  long  l)een  a  need  for  a  Life  of  Christ  for  the 
young,  and  this  book  has  been  written  in  answer  to  this 
demand.  That  it  will  meet  with  great  favor  is  beyond 
question,  for  parents  have  recognized  that  their  boys  and 
girls  want  something  more  than  a  Bible  story,  a  dry 
statement  of  faots,  and  that,  in  order  to  hold  the  atten- 
tion of  the  youthful  reauers,  a  book  on  this  subject 
should  have  life  and  movement  -is  well  as  scrupulous 
accuracy  and  reUgious  sentiment. 

Uttle  Bermuda.    By  Maria  Louise  Pool. 

Author  of  "  Dally,"  "  A  Redbridge  Neighborhood,"  "  In  a 
Dike  Shanty,"  "  Friendship  and  Folly,"  etc. 

The  adventures  of  "Little  Bermuda'*  from  her  home  in 
the  tropics  to  a  fashionable  American  boarding-school. 
The  resulting  conflict  between  the  two  elements  in  her 
nature,  the  one  inherited  from  her  New  England  ances- 
try, and  the  other  developed  by  her  West  Indian  sur- 
roundings, gave  Miss  Pool  unusual  opportunity  for 
creating  an  original  and  fascinating  heroine. 

The  Wild  Rothvens:  A  Home  Story.  By  Curtis  York. 
A  story  illustrating  the  mistakes,  failures,  and  successes  of 
a  family  of  unruly  but  warm-hearted  boys  and  girls. 
They  are  ultimately  softened  and  civilized  by  the  influ- 
ence of  an  invalid  cousin,  Dick  Trevanion,  whc  comes  to 
live  with  them. 

The  Adventures  of  a  Siberian  Cub.  Translated  from  the 
Russian  of  Slibitski  by  Leon  Goi.schmann. 
This  is  indeed  a  hook  which  will  be  hailed  with  delight,  es- 
pecially by  children  who  love  to  read  about  animals. 
The  interesting  and  pathetic  adventures  of  the  orphan- 
bear,  Mishook,  will  appeal  to  old  and  young  in  much  the 
same  way  as  have  "  Black  Beauty  "  and  "  Beautiful  Joe." 

Timothy  Dole.    By  Juniata  Salsbury. 

The  youthful  hero,  and  a  genuine  hero  he  proves  to  be, 
starts  from  home,  loses  his  way,  meets  with  startling  ad- 
ventures, finds  friends,  kind  and  many,  and  grows  to  be  a 
manly  man.  It  is  a  wholesome  and  vigorous  book,  that 
boys  and  girls,  and  parents  as  well,  will  read  and  enjoy. 


at 


Gift  I9ook  ScrtM  for  Boyi  and  Gfrli—  ConHmtml. 

Kins  Pippin  s  ^  Story  for  Childken.  By  Mrs.  Gkrard 
Ford. 

Author  of  "  Pixie." 

One  of  the  most  charming  books  for  young  folks  which 
has  been  issued  for  some  time.  The  hero  is  a  lovable 
little  fellow,  whose  frank  and  winning  ways  disarm  even 
the  crustiest  of  grandmothers,  and  win  for  him  the  affec- 
tion of  all  manner  of  unlikely  people. 

Feati  on  the  Flotdt  A  Tale  of  Norwegian  Life.  By 
Harriet  Martineau. 
This  admirable  book,  read  and  enjoyed  by  so  many  young 
people,  deserves  to  be  brought  to  the  attention  of  parents 
in  search  of  wholesome  reading  for  their  children  to-day- 
It  is  something  more  .han  a  juvenile  book,  being  really 
one  of  the  most  instructive  books  about  Norway  and 
Norwegian  life  and  manners  ever  written. 

Sonn  and  Rhymes  for  the  iJttle  Ones.  Compiled  by  Mary 
WHITNEY  Morrison  (Jenny  Wallis). 

New  edition,  with  an  introduction  by  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney. 

No  better  description  of  this  admirable  book  can  be  given 
than  Mrs.  Whitney's  happy  introduction  : 

"One  might  almost  as  well  offer  June  roses  with  the  as- 
surance of  their  sweetness,  as  to  present  this  lovely  little 
gathering  of  verse,  which  announces  itself,  like  them,  by 
its  own  deliciousness.  Yet,  as  Mrs.  Morrison's  charming 
volume  has  long  been  a  delight  to  me,  I  am  only  too 
happy  to  declare  that  it  is  to  me  —  and  to  two  families 
of  my  grandchildren  —  the  most  bevntching  book  of 
songs  for  little  people  that  we  have  ever  known." 
The  Young  Pearl  Divers t  A  Story  of  Australian  Ad- 
venture BY  Land  and  by  Sea.  By  Lieut.  H. 
Phelps  Whitmarsh. 

This  is  a  splendid  story  for  boys,  by  an  author  who  writes 
in  vigorous  and  interesting  language,  of  scenes  and  ad- 
ventures with  which  he  is  personally  acquainted. 

The  ^^oodranger.    By  G.  Waldo  Browne. 

The  first  of  a  series  of  five  volumes  entitled  "  The  Wood- 
ranger  Tales." 

Although  based  strictly  on  historical  facts  the  book  is  an 
interesting  and  exciting  tale  of  adventure,  which  will 
delight  all  boys,  and  be  by  no  meaus  unwelcome  to  th«ir 
elders. 


■  -■^t  wfciwwW »'M  Eji-  ^  ■ 


Gtft  Book  Serica  for  Boyi  and  Gitk—ContiMueJ. 

The  Young  Giinbmer.    By  G.  Waldo  Brownk. 

This  is  the  second  volume  of  "  The  Woodranger  Tales.' 
The  new  story,  while  complete  in  itself,  continues  the 
fortunes  and  adventures  of  "  The  Woodranger's  "  young 
companions. 

A  Bad  Penny.    By  John  T.  Wheelright. 

A  dashing  story  of  the  New  England  of  i8iz.  In  the 
climax  of  the  story  the  scene  is  laid  during  the  well- 
known  sea-fight  between  the  Chtsapeake  and  Shannon, 
and  the  contest  is  vividly  portrayed. 

The  Fairy  Folk  of  Blue  HIU :  A  Story  of  Folk-lore. 
By  LiLV  F.  Wesselhoeff. 
A  new  volume  by  Mrs.  Wesselhoeft,  well  known  as  one  of 
our  best  writers  for  the  young,  and  who  has  made  a  host 
of  friends  among  the  young  people  who  have  read  her 
delightful  books.  This  book  ought  to  interest  and  ^>' 
peal  to  every  child  who  has  read  her  earlier  work*. 


lies." 
I  the 
oung 


I  the 
well- 
Htton, 

.ORE. 

ne  of 

host 

d  her 

d  ap- 


"\ 


Selections   from 
L.   C.   Page   &   Company's 
Books   for  Young   People 


Old  Father  Gander  i  or,  Thk  Better-Hai.f  op  Mother 

GuosE.  kiiYMKs,  Chimes,  and  Jingles  scratched  from 
his  own  goose-quill  for  American  Goslings.  Illustrated 
with  impossible  Geese,  hatched  and  raiiied  by  Walter 
Scott  Howakd. 
I  vol.,  oblong  quarto,  cloth  decorative  .  .  .  $2.00 
The  illustrations  are  so  striking  and  fascinating  that  the 
book  will  appeal  to  the  young  people  aside  from  the  fact 
even  of  the  charm  and  humor  of  the  songs  and  rhymes. 
There  are  thirty-two  full-page  plates,  of  which  many  are 
in  color.  The  color  illustrations  are  a  distinct  and  suc- 
cessful departure  from  the  old-fashioned  lithographic 
work  hitherto  invariably  used  for  children's  books. 

The  Crock  of  Gold:    A  New   Book  of  Faiicy    Tales. 
By  S.  Baring  Gould. 
Author  of  "  Mehalah,"  "  Old  Country  Life,"  "  Old  English 
Fairy  Tales,"  etc.    With  twenty-five  full-page  illustrations 
by  F.  D.  Bedford. 
I  vol.,  tall  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top     .  #1.50 

This  volume  will  prove  a  source  of  delight  to  the  children 
of  two  continents,  answering  their  always  increasing  de- 
mand for  "  more  fairy  stories." 

Shireen   and   Her   Friends:    The  Autobiography  of  a 

Persian  Cat.    By  Gordon  Stables. 
Illustrated  by  Harrison  Weir. 

I  vol.,  large  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative        .         ...      $J.2$ 
A  more  charming  book  about  animals  Dr.  Stables  himself 

has  not  written.     It  is  similar  in   character  to  "Black 

Beauty,"  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  and  other  books  which  teach 

ua  to  love  and  protect  the  dumb  animals. 


Boob  for  Youflg  People  —  Continuti. 

BuQy,  Fag,  and  Hero.    By  Charles  J.  Mansford. 
With  six  full-page  illustrations  by  S.  H.  Vedder. 
I  vol.,  large  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top  .  Ii.jo 

An  interesting  story  of  schoolboy  Hie  and  adventure  in 
school  and  during  the  holidays. 

The  Adventures  of  a  Boy  Reporter  in  the  Philippines. 
By  Harry  Steele  Morrison. 
Author  of  "A  Yankee  Boy's  Success." 
I  vol.,  large  1 2mo,  cloth,  illustrated  1 1-25 

A  true  story  of  the  courage  and  enterprise  of  an  American 
lad.  It  is  a  splendid  boys'  book,  filled  with  healthy  inter- 
est, and  will  tend  to  stimulate  and  encourage  the  proper 
ambition  of  the  young  reader. 

Tales  Told  tn  the  Zoo.    By  F.  C.  Gould. 
With  many  illustrations  from  original  drawings. 

I  vol.,  large  quarto I2.00 

A  new  book  for  yoi-  eople  on  entirely  original  lines. 
The  tales  are  suppos.  o  be  told  by  an  old  adjutant  stork 
in  the  Zoological  flardens  to  the  assembled  birds  located 
there,  and  they  deal  with  legendary  and  folk-lore  stories 
of  the  origins  of  various  creatures,  mostly  birds,  and 
their  characteristics. 

Philip:  The  Story  of  a  Boy  Violinist.    By  T.  W.  O. 

I  vol.,  1 2mo,  cloth Jtr.oo 

The  life-story  of  a  boy,  reared  among  surroundings  singular 
enough  to  awaken  interest  at  the  start,  is  described  by 
the  present  author  as  it  could  be  described  only  by  one 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  scene.  The  reader  is  carried 
from  the  cottages  of  the  humblest  coal-miners  into  the 
realms  of  music  and  art ;  and  the  finale  of  this  charming 
tale  is  a  ma-^terpiece  of  pathetic  interest. 

Black  Beauty:  The  AtrTOBiooRAPHv  of  a   Horse.     By 
Anna  Sewell.     New  /ilustratei/  •  Jition. 
With  twenty-five  full  page  drawings  by  Winifred  Austin. 
I  vol.,  large  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top  .        .      $1.25 
There  have  been  many  editions  of  this  classic,  but  we  con- 
fidently offer  this  one  as  the  most  appropriate  and  hand- 
some  yet   produced.     Tht   illustrations  are  of  special 
value  and  beauty,  and  should  make  this  the  standard 
edition  wherever  illustrations  worthy  of  the  story  are 
desired. 


Booki  fof  Voting  People  —  C*nHmt*d. 

The   Voyage   of   the  Avenger  i    In  the   Dayi  of  the 
Dashing  Drake.    By  Henry  St.  John. 
Author  of  "  A  Middy  of  Nelson's  Day,"  etc.    With  twenty- 
five  full-page  illustrations  by  Paul  Hardy. 
I  vol.,  tail  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  400  pages   I1.50 
A  book  of  adventure,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  that 
stirring   period   of    colonial    extension    when    England's 
famous  naval   heroes    encountered    the  ships  of    Spain, 
both  at  home  and  in   the   West  Indies.     Mr.  St.  John 
has  given  his  boy  readers  a  rattling  good  story  of  the 
sea.     'I'here  is  plenty  of  adventure,  sufficient  in  fact  to 
keep  a  boy  iixed  near  the  fireside  until  the  last  page  is 
reached. 

A  Child's  HJstory  of  Spain.    By  Leonard  Williams. 

Author  of  '■  HiiUads  and  S.)ngs  of  Spain,"  etc. 
I  vol.,  small  i:^mo,  with  frontispiece,  cloth,  gilt  top  I0.75 
Although  the  recent  war  with  Spain  has  aroused  general 
interest  and  caused  a  great  demand  for  literature  relating 
to  the  subject,  there  has  not  as  yet  been  published  a  con- 
densed history  of  Spain  for  young  people.  Mr.  Williams's 
little  book  will  prove  a  desirable  addition  to  the  children's 
historical  library. 

Fairy  Folk  from  Far  and  Near.    By  A.  C.  Woolf.  .M.  A 
With  numerous  full-page  color  illustrations  by  Hans  Keitz. 
I  vol.,  large  i2mo,  cloth  decorative         .         •         ■       P'oO 
It  is  lone  since  there  has  appeared  such  a  thoroughly  de- 
lightful volume  of  fairy  tales  as  that  of  Annie  C.  Woolf. 
An  added  attraction  to  the  book  is  found  in  the  exquisite 
colored  illustrations,  the  work  of   Hans   Reit«.     As  a 
Christmas  gift-book  to  children,  these  tales  will  be  hard 
to  excel. 

The  Magnet  Stories.    By  Lynde  Palmer. 

A  new  edition  ;  new  binding  and  larger  sue  volume,  5  vols., 
izmo.     Reduced  price. 

Drtfting  and  Steering *'°° 

One  Day's  Weaving '•°° 

Archie's  Shadow ^•°° 

John-Jack '■°° 

Jeannette's  Cisterns '•°° 


L.   C.   Page   &   Company's 
Cosy   Corner  Series 


OP 


Charming  Juveniles 


Each  one  volume^  16mo,  cloth,  lUuitntcd,  50  cents 


Ole  Mammy'i  Torment    By  Annie  Fellows-Johnston. 
Author  of  "  The  Little  Colonel,"  etc. 

The  LHtle  ColoneL    Uy  Annie  FellowsJohnstok. 
Author  of  "  Uig  Hrother  " 

Big  Brother.    Bv  Annie  Fellows-Johnston. 
Author  of  "  The  Little  Colonel,"  etc. 

The  Gate  of   the   Giant   Scissors.    By  Annie   Fellows- 
Johnston. 
Author  of  "The  Little  Colonel,"  etc. 

Two  Little  Knisjhts  of  Kentttcky,  who  were  "The  Little 
Colonel's  "  neighbors.    By  Annie  Fellows-Johnston. 
A  sequel  to  "  The  Little  Colonel." 

The  Story  of  Da,?|o.    By  Annie  Fellows-Johnston. 
Author  of  "  The  Little  Colonel,"  etc. 

Farmer  Brown  anrf  the  Birds.  By  Frances  Margaret 
Fox.  a  little  story  which  teaches  children  that  the  birds 
are  man's  best  friends. 


vssmtssuxaasm 


His 


NSTON. 


LLOWS- 


I  Little 

NSTON. 


CARET 

e  birds 


Co«y  Corner  Scries— CVm/imm/^/. 

For  Hb  Country.    By  Marshall  Saunders. 
A  beautiful  story  of  a  patriotic  little  American  lad. 

A  Little  Puritan's  First  Christmas.     i<y  Edith  Robinson. 

A  Littk  Daughter  of  Liberty.    Hy  Kuirn  Kubinson. 
Author   of   "A    Loyal   Uttle    Maid,"  "A   Little   Puritan 

kebel,"  etc. 
A  true  story  of  the  Revolution, 

A  Little  Puritan  RebeL    By  Edith  Robinson. 

An  historical  tale  of  a  real  girl,  during  the  time  when  the 
gallant  Sir  Harry  Vane  wan  governor  of  Massachusetts. 

A  Loyal  Little  Maid.    By  Edith  Robinson. 

A  delightful  and  interesting  story  of  Revolutionary  days, 
in  which  the  child  heroine,  Betsey  Schuyler,  renders  im- 
portant services  to  George  Washington  and  Alexander 
Hamilton. 

A  Dog  of  Flanders.    A  Christmas   Story.     By  Louise 
DE  LA  RAMfcK  (Ouida). 

The  Nttmberg  Stove.    By  Louise  de  la  RamAe  (Ouida). 
This  beautiful  story  has  never  before  been  published  at  a 
popular  price. 

The  King  of  the  Golden  River.     A  Legend  of  Stiria. 
By  John  Ruskin. 
Written  fifty  years  or  more  ago,  this  little  fairy  tale  sotn 
became  known  and  made  a  place  for  itself. 

La  Belle  Nivemalie.    The  Story  of  An  Old  Boat  and 
Her  Crew.     By  Alphonse  Daudet. 
It  has  been  out  of  print  for  some  time,  and  is  now  offered 
in  cheap  but  dainty  form  in  this  new  edition. 

The  Young  King.    The  Star  Child. 
Two  stories  chosen  from   a  recent  volume  by  a  gifted 
author,  on  account  of   their   rare   beauty,  great  power, 
and  deep  significance. 

A  Great  Emergency.    By  Mrs.  Ewino. 

The  Trinity  Flower.    By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewino. 
In  this  little  volume  are  collected  three  erf  Mrs.  Ewing'a 
best  short  stories  for  the  young  people. 


:^A-itirink,fJ»,,^ii^fMr/^&ai,i=i.*'tei(isaiaim,ltUitttl^^^ 


Cosy  Comer  Series—  Contintud. 

Story  o!  a  Short  Life.    By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 
This  beautiful  and  pathetic  story  is  a  part  of  the  world's 
literature  and  will  never  die. 

Jackanapes.    By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 

A  new  edition,  with  new  illustrations,  of  this  exquisite  and 
touching  story,  dear  alike  to  young  and  old. 

The  Little  Lame  Prince.    By  Miss  Mulock. 

A  dehghtful  siory  of  a  little  boy  who  has  many  adventures 
by  means  of  the  magic  gifts  of  his  fairy  godmother. 

The  Adventures  of  a  Brownie.    By  Miss  Mulock. 

The  stoiy  of  a  household  elf  who  torments  tha  cook  and 
gardener,  but  is  a  constant  joy  and  delight  to  the  children. 

His  Littk  Mother.    By  Miss  Mulock. 

Miss  Mulot,k's  short"  stories  for  children  are  a  constant 
source  of  delight  to  them,  and  "  His  Little  Mother,"  in 
this  n;w  and  attractive  dress,  will  be  welcomed  by  hosts 
of  readers. 

Little  Sunshine's  HoUday.    By  Miss  Mulock. 

"Little  Sunshii.e"  is  another  of  those  beautiful  child- 
characters  for  which  Miss  Mulock  is  so  justly  famous. 

Vee  Dorothy.    By  Laura  Updegraff. 

A  sto-7  of  two  orphan  children,  the  tender  devotion  of  the 
eldest,  a  boy,  for  his  sister  being  its  theme. 

Rab  and  His  Friends.     By  Dr.  John  Brown. 

Doctor  Brown's  little  masterpiece  is  too  well  known  to 
need  description. 

The  Vater  People.    By  Charles  Lee  Sleight. 

Relating  the  further  adventures  of  "  Harry,"  the  little  hero 
of  "  The  Prince  of  the  Pin  Elves." 

The  Pflnce  of  the  Pin  Elves.    By  Chas.  Lee  Sleight. 
A  fascinating  story  of  the  underground  adventures  of  a 
sturdy,   reliant    American    boy   among   the    elves    and 
gnomes. 

Helena's  WonderworU.    By  Frances  Hodges  White. 
A  delightful  tale  of  the  adventures  of  a  httle  girl  in  the 
mysterious  regions  beneath  the  sea. 


•™;frP^ 


'iim- 


cr- 


easy Comer  Series  —  Continued. 

The  Adventures   of   Beatrice   and  Jessie.     By   Richard 

Mansfield. 
A  bright  and  amusing  story  of  the  strange  adventures  of 
two  little  girls  in  the  "  realms  of  unreality." 

A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses.    By  R.  L.  Stevenson. 

This  little  classic  is  undoubtedly  the  best  of  ail  volumes  of 
poetry  for  children. 

Little  King  Davie.    By  Nel^-je  Heliis. 

It  is  sufficient  to  say  of  this  book  that  it  has  sold  over 
110,000  copies  in  England,  and  consequently  should  well 
be  worthy  of  a  place  in  "  The  Cosy  Corner  Series." 

Littk  Peterfcin  Vandike.    By  Charles  .Stuart  Pratt. 
The  author's  dedication  furnishes  a  key  to  this  charming 

story. 
"  I  dedicate  this  book,  made  for  the  amusement  of   the 

boys  who  may  read  it,  to  the  memory  o*  one  boy,  who 

would  have  enjoyed  as  much  as  Peterkin  the  plays  of 

the  Poetry  Party." 

The  MaMog  of  Zimri  Bunker.    A  Tale  of  Nantuckkt. 
By  W.  J.  Long. 
The  story  deals  with  a  sturdy  American  fisher  lad  during 
the  war  of  1812. 

The  Fortunes  of  the  Fellow.  By  Will  Allen  Drom- 
GOOLE.  A  sequel  to  "The  Farrier's  Dog  and  Hia 
Fellow." 

The  Farrier's  Dog  and  His  Fellow.     By   Will  Allen 
Dromuoole. 
This  story,  written  by  the  gifted  young  Southern  woman, 
will  appeal  to  all  that  is  best  in  the  natures  of  her  many 
admirers. 

The  Sleeping  Beatfty.    A  Modern  Version.    By  Martha 
B.  Dunn. 
A  charming  story  of  a  little  fishermaid  of  Maine,  intellect- 
ually "asleep,"  until  she  meets  the  "Fairy  Prince." 

The  Young  Archer.    By  Charles  E.  Brimblecom. 
A  strong  and  wholesome  story  of  a  boy  who  acaompanied 
Columbus  ou  his  voyage  to  the  New  World. 


\, 


wmm 


/ 


L.  C.   Page   &   Company's 
Cosy   Corner  Series 


FOR 


Older   Readers 


Memories  of  U>e  Manae. 

trated. 


By  Anne  Breadalbane.    IUus- 


Christmas  at  Thcmpson  'Hall.    By  Anthony  Trollope. 

A  Provence  Robf.    By  Louise  de  la  Ram^e  (Ouida). 

In  Distance  and  v^  Eweam.    By  M.  F.  Sweetser. 

A  story  of  immortality,  treating  with  profound  insight  of 
the  connection  between  the  life  which  now  is  and  the  life 
which  is  to  ci.'ue. 

Vlll  o'  tfce  Mill,    By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 
An  al)  jgoricii  story  by  this  inimitable  and  versatile  writer. 
Its  rare  poetic  qiiality,  its  graceful  and  delicate  fancy, 
its  scrange  power  and  fascination,  justify  its  separate 
publication. 


m 


Ea 


lUb- 


:  of 
Ufe 


ter. 
icy, 


l[':  ijPiWDwww  ^»v«^• 


■•i-T^t 


1 


'^^"^ 


if 


m 


